Partners in Defeat
by Surreptitious Chi X
Summary: sequel to Taking Off the Masks. After the climactic battle between Entreri and Do'Urden, Jarlaxle, injured and fleeing to Menzoberranzan, finds Artemis at the base of the cliff. The night they spent together, however, only causes tension between them.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is the sequel to Taking Off the Masks, a continuation of The Legacy story line in its AU permutation. Again, Linndechir has written Artemis, and I have written Jarlaxle in this scene.

**Partners in Defeat**

--

Jarlaxle groaned, stopped on a boulder, and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief, resting his throbbing leg.

He was sure that he had evaded any pursuers and was quite alone in the barren ravine, and the silence all around him confirmed that.

The break was bad. If he was right, his leg was actually snapped in two underneath the skin and muscle. The only reason he was walking was because he applied the ill advised remedy of splinting with what he had on hand. He looked down at the strips of what had once been his shirt tied around one of his less lethal magic wands. _I need to acquire a healing artifact from now on,_ he thought. _This is simply unacceptable._

After a moment, Jarlaxle hauled himself to his feet again and forced himself to limp on, suppressing a moan.

He could hardly believe he'd been beaten. Disbelief still fluttered in his heart whenever he thought of that gigantic panther breaking his leg. He'd been attacked by a giant panther. Why did Drizzt have a giant panther? It was simply not fair. He appreciated magical items more than that Do'Urden brat. He should have a panther at his beck and call. See whose legs would get broken then.

His sulking was interrupted, and quite irrevocably, by the sight of the battered body of Artemis Entreri lying at the base of the cliff in front of him.

Jarlaxle frowned at his friend's body for a moment. He didn't like this at all. He didn't want to approach the assassin. But he was in Jarlaxle's way...

The drow mercenary limped closer.

The assassin was covered in contusions from hitting every jutting rock on the way down, covered in bloody scrapes, and showed signs of battling Do'Urden. His left arm looked dislocated, and the arm folded under him looked broken. His forearm rested at a wrong angle, and the wrist looked broken as well. Jarlaxle winced. It looked miserable.

He also didn't doubt that while he had one broken leg, Artemis probably had two.

_The kindest thing to do would be to leave him_, Jarlaxle thought. He couldn't help identifying the assassin's broken body with the corpses of goblins he saw on the streets of the Menzoberranzyr slums.

He didn't, though. He knew subtly that he wouldn't have, anyway. He knelt closer, firing new pain in his leg, and took Artemis' pulse. Jarlaxle straightened, firecrackers of pain behind his eyes, and sighed. He was still alive.

_It wasn't very drow-like of me to do that,_ he thought. But he winced a little and shook his head, still staring at the assassin. _If I failed, anyone could've failed._

Jarlaxle put up with the agony of bending down again and putting extra pressure on his broken leg to get Artemis up, off the ground, and slung over his shoulder.

_Why do I care?_ he asked himself. He resumed his limping retreat. _Maybe I still want what I had from him, even though he'll probably want never to do that with me again._

--

The first thing Artemis felt when he woke up was pain, not from one wound, but from many - the feeling reminded him a bit of his childhood, of how he had felt after his father had beaten him, but it was worse. He groaned softly and opened his eyes, almost grateful for the darkness in the room. His vision was blurred, and his head hurt so much that he could hardly adjust to the magical infravision.

He couldn't remember what exactly had happened. He remembered fighting Do'Urden, and he knew that at some point that halfling had been there ... he also remembered falling down ... but he couldn't find any connection between these things, and he had no idea where he was and how he had come here. Ignoring his confusion and his pain, he forced himself to sit up, looking around in the room.

--

The magical stone buzzed in Jarlaxle's pocket. There was movement in Artemis' room. That meant the assassin was awake - if he hadn't had his best soldiers guarding the room on pain of dismemberment or death, he might have doubted this. But he knew that no one would get past those soldiers. The movement had to be Artemis.

He still limped, but Triel had started his leg on the mend, so he was able to carry his head high and smilingly nod at his soldiers when he passed them in the hallways.

He ignored his limp, and he knew that they would too, for fear of catching his temper.

Not many things did, but he prided himself on being unpredictable enough to keep his soldiers in line.

Jarlaxle brushed past the guards in front of Artemis' door and swept inside, closing it after him. A broad grin of relief stretched across his face to see his associate sitting up and conscious.

Artemis had just started examining the bruises on his bare torso, and judging by them he had been badly injured before somebody had at least partly healed him. He still felt incredibly weak, and he didn't trust his legs enough to stand up.

He flinched when the door opened - obviously his senses and reflexes weren't reliable anymore either. However, he felt relieved to see Jarlaxle. Artemis realized only now that he had to be in the Underdark, but he hadn't noticed the strange stone walls and the heat before.

"Jarlaxle," he stated, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. He had to cough suddenly, and it took him a few moments before he managed to speak again. "What happened?"

Jarlaxle laughed, but it was much subdued, and his eyes were sad as he shook his head. "We lost. To put it succinctly. You're here because you would have died. The job is over - Vierna's dead, after all, so that shuts the book on their little brother-sister feud - so I can't hold it against you for failing a job I was never going to see payment for anyway." Jarlaxle directed the assassin's attention back to his wounds with a nod and a pointed look. "As to that, I scraped you off the floor. You were already far gone. Someone made sure you had a long drop and a sudden stop." His grin was mirthless.

Artemis nodded, but he wasn't quite sure that he fully understood the consequences of Jarlaxle's words right now. They lost ... Artemis Entreri never lost. He never failed at a job ... he never lost a battle against anyone. But he had lost against Drizzt, hadn't he? Artemis groaned again, cursing his headache.

"I can't remember everything. I think I was hanging at the edge of the cliff and that halfling caused me to fall," he said slowly, more to himself than to Jarlaxle. But suddenly his eyes widened and he gave the drow an unbelieving, suspicious stare - and he actually managed to look suspicious despite his pathetic state.

"Why did you help me? I was dying, I failed, you don't need me anymore. There was no reason for you to bring me here."

Jarlaxle had known all along he would have to face Entreri when he woke up, but he hadn't wanted to. He didn't like having to explain himself, and he knew that only the truth would do, and if he did tell the truth, he might not be believed.

_It's my job to put a framework on the truth that makes the most sense for my clients,_ Jarlaxle argued to himself. If I can't do that, _I've broken more than my leg. _

So he tried to evade the truth with fancy words.

"I am an opportunist," Jarlaxle said. "In truth, I was planning to get rid of Vierna as soon as I had the chance. I would have preferred that I had claimed her valuables first, but Drizzt Do'Urden did not seem to share my priorities." He sighed. "Of the two of you, I vastly prefer to associate myself with you, rather than that spider-worshipping monster. I suppose, if you have to be vulgar about it, you are my payment for Vierna's job. I have to turn a profit somehow. As far as I'm concerned, meeting you has been a profit," he added to stem off any objections.

He grinned.

Even in his current state Artemis was deeply offended by Jarlaxle's words, and he sneered angrily, not even slightly appeased by the drow's last sentence.

Jarlaxle was surprised, to say the least. He took a step back.

"Your payment?" Entreri repeated. "What am I, then? Your prisoner? A replacement for the soldiers you lost fighting against Do'Urden's friends? How do you expect me to be 'profitable' for you?"

In his anger he seemed to forget his pain for a few moments and even managed to get up, although he still didn't look very intimidating, only half-dressed, bruised and a bit dizzy. He suddenly felt very helpless. Jarlaxle had saved his life and brought him back to the Underdark, and while that was probably better than dying, Artemis knew that everything had its price.

Not knowing what that price was scared him more than anything else. He owed Jarlaxle his life, and he needed the drow to survive.

"How could you be a replacement when you are so much superior?" Jarlaxle stammered. "I -" _Zaknafein would have understood,_ he thought rebelliously, but he knew better than to say that to this man. He caught the fear in Entreri's eyes and acted on it, coming forward and trying to make the human sit back down on the bed, his hands reaching for Entreri's arms.

Instead of sitting down Artemis evaded Jarlaxle's touch, backing off several steps.

"You need to relax, and to rest," Jarlaxle said. "As impossible the request may be." He raised an index finger firmly. "You are a prisoner only by virtue of the fact that there is no way for you to survive in this city on your own at the present time. I am allowing you to stay here and recover as an honored guest - not a slave. I don't doubt you choose not to believe me, but I am telling the truth when I say it never crossed my mind to trap you."

The assassin's angry glare showed clearly that he didn't believe a single word Jarlaxle said, and the compliments - whether they be true or not - didn't change anything about that.

Jarlaxle sat on the bed, head bowed defeatedly. He didn't want to look at Artemis' face when he was being glared at like that.

"So you're just letting me recover here out of the kindness of your heart? And then? We had a deal concerning Do'Urden; I never agreed to work for you any longer," Artemis said, his voice still rough and getting very aggressive, as if he was trying to mask his fear with his anger.

"I would have asked you, had you succeeded. I mean to say, had things gone according to plan. I would have asked." Jarlaxle looked up at him. "How can I ask a dead body?" he asked, trying to inject his reasonable tone into the conversation once more.

Artemis winced a bit - Jarlaxle's words were a clear reminder of his failure. He should have succeeded. If he had killed Do'Urden he wouldn't be in this situation. "And are you asking me now?" Artemis said warily. "If I refuse will you let me return to the surface?"

Jarlaxle smiled through his sinking heart. "Would you refuse? Would you rather go back to your life as a pasha a second time having failed to reclaim your integrity from Do'Urden? You did not strike me as a masochist."

"I would rather go back to my old life than live in a world I know nothing about. I wouldn't need to be pasha again," Artemis replied, although he didn't seem entirely convinced. He had been one of the most powerful men in Calimport - becoming a pasha at some point had almost been the logical consequence of this. "But you haven't answered my question. If I refuse, for whatever reasons, will you accept that decision?"

_People don't refuse when I offer them a job,_ that rebellious voice rose in Jarlaxle's mind again. At this moment he immensely disliked playing games he didn't know the rules to with a stubborn human who had the arrogance to ask him questions such as this when he was nothing but a battered, vanquished prisoner. He forced himself to remember Artemis Entreri's ignorance and be as fair of a human business partner as he could.

But how he hated the niggling, unspecific phrase 'for whatever reasons'! Now that was _not_ fair.

Jarlaxle passed a hand over his face. "How you try my patience. If you so desire that world above you have come from - and I certainly can't see anything that great lying ahead for you there - then I promise I will return you. Fine? All and well? Do you wish to make me hand-clasp upon it as well, while you're making demands?" He couldn't help looking at Entreri icily. He was so angry.

Artemis narrowed his eyes and stared at Jarlaxle, now quite surprised. He had known, of course, that Jarlaxle's smiles and friendliness were only a facade, but he had never seen the drow like this. He still sneered, but finally he just shrugged.

"Fine," Artemis said simply, his voice just as cold as Jarlaxle's. Not that he trusted the drow - far from it - but there was nothing more he could say or do now. "For the moment I have no choice anyway," he added, once again aware of the pain in his whole body. If he returned immediately to Calimport he probably wouldn't survive a single day.

Jarlaxle felt himself give in. He hadn't meant to treat Entreri like a beaten dog. "Now, don't take it that way. I am still your friend. You are lucky. You could have met much worse a fate than to be taken with me. I have agreed to let you go when I find the opportunity. What more do you want of me?" He stood up and spread his hands. "I have tried my best for you, and you want to leave. Why does it surprise you that I am offended? I have not met a human like you, and you reject me. Am I to ignore that? I am being more than fair. Most would have left you to die in slow pain."

He was surprised to see that he felt sorry for losing his temper at the assassin. He felt guilty at the look in Entreri's eyes. To a person who was never used to feeling guilty about anything he wanted, this sensation was almost frightening and definitely confusing.

"I have to explain my failure as well," Jarlaxle muttered, turning away. "I don't need a self-absorbed assassin wallowing in his."

Artemis wasn't sure how much of Jarlaxle's apology and guilt was genuine - he never knew that with the unpredictable drow, and that was probably one of the reasons Jarlaxle fascinated him as much as he made him uneasy. "I know. As you said, most would have left me to die, so I have every reason to question your motives when you saved me. You're a pragmatist, like me, you don't do things just because I am your 'friend'." He said that last word as if he wasn't sure what exactly it meant - Artemis didn't have friends, and although he respected Jarlaxle and even liked him a bit, he wouldn't call the drow his friend.

"And your failure is less ... personal," Artemis added, his voice so low that it was hardly audible. He sighed and sat down on the bed, in too much pain to remain on his feet.

Jarlaxle was instinctively hurt by Artemis' accusation. He felt as though someone had shoved him in the chest. _Zaknafein would understand,_ that part of him in the back of his mind said again, but this time it was a wail. _I __**do**__ do things just because I am a friend. I don't do much, but it's something! _

"I am not a pragmatist all the time," Jarlaxle muttered, sitting on the bed next to him. "I don't have to do things for a reason. I am the most powerful male in Menzoberranzan besides Gromph Baenre. I can do things...I want..."

Aremis wasn't sure if he felt comfortable with having Jarlaxle so close to him. He still remembered that one night, and his own loss of control still confused him. He managed to hide his thoughts quite well, though, and just scowled like he usually did. "You said yourself that you saw me as your payment for this job," Artemis reminded him. "Hardly a friend's words." The assassin didn't sound offended this time - in a way it was more comforting to believe that Jarlaxle regarded him as a useful tool than as a friend.

Jarlaxle gave him a puzzled look. "I don't understand."

The human just looked confused for a moment. He wasn't exactly an expert on friendship, but he knew that friends weren't supposed to see each other as tools. "Either you help someone because you think it is profitable, or you help someone purely because you like them and don't want them to die. You don't think of a friend as profitable or not," Artemis explained. "Friendship isn't rational, it isn't useful. That's why it is such a foolish thing."

"Yes, I can," Jarlaxle protested, hardly letting him finish. He felt attacked. "I do. Part of it is profitable, and part of it is enjoying your company. I can so have a friend who is also an asset. Why is it that I can't have both?"

"Enjoying my company," Artemis snorted and shook his head. Now the drow was just being absurd. As if anyone had ever enjoyed Artemis' company. "If I stay here, how will we work together? You told me, back in Calimport, that the drow had enough assassins."

"I also told you that I was ever expanding the ranks of my organization," Jarlaxle said. He gave the assassin a reproachful look. "Why are you being so combative? I am not the strange one of the two, you are. You talk to me for hours on end and claim your company is not enjoyable."

"I am also the one who finds himself currently at someone else's mercy," Artemis spat, surprised by his own words. He quickly forced himself to calm down, or at least not to show how uneasy he was. "And I have no idea why my company should be enjoyable to you. I'm sure you have better things to do than being here."

"How kind of you to send me back to the Matron's arms from which I escaped barely a half hour ago," Jarlaxle said. Frustration burned, hot and acidic, in his heart. "I'll be sure to give you a complimentary spider. Or are you suggesting that I try to strike a conversation with one of my soldiers? Drow only know how to rule by fear. My soldiers are too afraid of me to withstand a conversation for more than five minutes without wondering if the entire thing leads up to execution. Or do you suggest going back to my office and reading dry reports? I have a stack a hundred pages thick every day, most of it inconsequential or things I have gleaned myself. Or shall I just go to the nearest temple and pray at service?"

Artemis just listened silently to the drow's words, not showing any reaction at all until that last sentence. He snorted softly and shook his head - everything was probably better than praying. The assassin didn't know what to answer, though. He couldn't imagine what Jarlaxle expected him to do or say ... As if Artemis was any better at small talk than any drow.

The assassin's reaction broke him down. He said what he had been trying to keep from spilling from his tongue in the first place. "You have made me realize that I am lonely, and desperate," Jarlaxle said softly. "This is the person you are at the 'mercy' of. I should almost say it is you who has an advantage to twist. I want something of you no one else can give me, and I don't have any way to take it from you." He remembered what he had meant to do when he entered the room, before they had started arguing. He took a hip flask from his belt and handed it to the assassin. "If you want to do something about the pain, drink this. It is a cocktail of liquids and herbs to deaden pain and swiften healing. I have been using it myself for my leg."

Entreri gave Jarlaxle a surprised look, at a loss for words. He tried immediately to figure out what Jarlaxle was hoping to gain by saying this, but his mind was still working too slowly due to the pain. Artemis took the hip flask, though. He stared at it for a few moments, but he didn't drink anything. He doubted that Jarlaxle was going to poison him after saving him, but he wouldn't put it past the drow to give him some strange drug - especially after these enigmatic words that he wanted something ... Again, Artemis found himself thinking of that night in Mithral Hall. "What is it you want?" he asked finally, but he didn't look at Jarlaxle this time.

"If you won't take it, I will," Jarlaxle said, pulling the flask back and taking a swig of it. He made a face. "It tastes terrible, but my knee is throbbing. If I let this go on, it will swell."

Artemis stared intently at Jarlaxle, watching him drink and swallow. Finally he sighed and took the flask back to take a sip himself, not even grimacing at the taste, before he returned the flask.

Jarlaxle looked over at Entreri curiously, turning over the question in his mind. "I think you know what it is I want. I am not accustomed to begging the way I must when a priestess is holding a whip over me, but if I have to explain..."

Jarlaxle's words made Entreri shift uncomfortably, and he probably would have stood up if his legs hadn't hurt that much. "I told you it was a mistake. It is not going to happen again. It was careless and unprofessional," Artemis said, hardly audibly, refusing to look at the drow. "We both should have known better."

Jarlaxle felt his gut knot, and he knew it wasn't the potion, even as foul as it was. "You don't believe that, or you would look at me."

Artemis snorted and looked up, meeting Jarlaxle's gaze. His eyes were hard and cold as always, but he couldn't keep a slight trembling out of his voice when he answered. "I do believe that. What's more, I know it. I don't trust you, and unless you're more foolish than I thought you don't trust me either."

"That night in Regis' bedroom involved trust," Jarlaxle challenged. "I may not trust you to guard my back during a losing fight, but I trust you to touch me and not try to hurt me when we're alone in bed."

"That trust was foolish. It was an open invitation to betray me," Artemis replied, lowering his gaze again. Why didn't Jarlaxle understand? The drow should know that trusting, caring was a weakness begging to be exploited. The day Jarlaxle wouldn't need him anymore he could simply kill Artemis when the assassin was weak and vulnerable ...

"I don't trust you not to hurt me. In bed or afterwards," he said after a short pause, his voice completely devoid of any emotion. Still, Artemis wasn't sure how long he would manage to hide how much he, too, wanted this ... He couldn't deny that he had enjoyed that night, that he was just as lonely as Jarlaxle claimed to be.

Jarlaxle's mouth dropped open stupidly. He couldn't wrap his head around Entreri's words at first. He was a drow trying to argue his points as a human and Artemis was now arguing his points as a drow. The drow mercenary blinked rapidly. "You - you don't -" He didn't dare ask Artemis to repeat it, in case he would. He didn't think he could bear to hear those words again.

For a moment, he grappled with the impossibility of satisfying human and drow logic at the same time. His first impulse was to say, 'You tricked me!' But he didn't say it.

He stood up, took off his hat, and slipped off his eye patch. He dropped them on the floor. He raised his arms out defiantly. "Then do with me what you think you fear I will do. If you choose to be a drow, do what it is you think drow do. Un-arm me, strip me, slap me, stab me...What do you think is the fate of my friends? Do it. See if you have the intentions to back up your sentiments."

At first Artemis just continued to stare at the floor, hoping that Jarlaxle would simply go away. He didn't know how to deal with such a situation - he wasn't like other humans. But while everyone Artemis had ever known had been pushed away by the assassin's behavior, the drow stayed ... Artemis looked up in surprise when Jarlaxle suddenly stood up and spoke again.

For a few minutes he didn't say anything, but at last he finally looked Jarlaxle in the eyes. "I have no wish to hurt you. And I do not think that you will hurt me, either. I just cannot be sure that you won't," Artemis said finally, but his voice wasn't even half as calm as before. He slowly stood up and made a step towards Jarlaxle before he stopped again. "And this has nothing to do with you being drow, or me acting like one. I wouldn't trust you any more if you were human."

Jarlaxle slowly dropped his arms. He didn't understand. He had no way of knowing what life was like for humans on the surface except accounts of human slaves he'd met in Menzoberranzan, usually living in the slums. What he heard of their culture from them was nothing like the statement that Artemis didn't trust anyone.

He stayed silent for the longest moment in his life. "But I need you."

A flicker of surprise and insecurity appeared in Artemis' eyes - he hadn't expected these words. Actually he would have expected Jarlaxle to leave already half an hour ago, too angry at him to continue this pointless conversation. Artemis knew that he shouldn't believe Jarlaxle, but the drow seemed strangely honest in that moment.

"You have spent centuries in this city, thriving in it; you said that yourself. I don't know what you would need me for," Artemis said. He knew that Jarlaxle didn't mean this, but he was too unfamiliar with the idea of anyone wanting, needing him for anything else but his services as an assassin.

Jarlaxle felt a little tremor go through him. "Because I thrived does not mean that I was happy. Or that I did things I do not regret doing." He took a step forward and stopped, not trusting himself to make the right move. "Those things, however, are not the point." The moment he thought about that, he became stuck. "Or perhaps they are," he said to himself, rubbing his chin. "There is no one in this city I have not threatened with my activities, no one who doesn't want to kill me, capture me, or use me to get the means for their ends. No one left to trust. No one was there in the first place."

Artemis just snorted and turned away - as if his life had been any different. He had no one in Calimport he could trust, and most people there would be equally eager to kill him. And that was why he couldn't bring himself to trust anyone ... especially not someone as clever and pragmatic as Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle snapped out of his recollections and looked up at Artemis with hurt. "You did those things with your fingers. Those nice things. You touched me so softly_..." So softly I am in pain whenever I remember it._ "I need you. I need you to do it again."

The assassin looked positively outraged. "You -" he started, clenching his fist as if he wanted to hit Jarlaxle. "You saved me because you want me in your bed?" Of course, he should have seen this coming as soon as Jarlaxle had started to talk about that night in Regis' room, but somehow Artemis had thought - hoped, even - that it had not just been about the pleasure he had given the drow.

Jarlaxle stood and stared at him. He hadn't expected to be the butt of Artemis' anger again. Not about this. Not again. He felt his face throb with all the heat that was pouring into it. Still, his offer stood. He lifted his chin up and faced the assassin dead on. "Then hit me, if you think so." _Go ahead. It won't matter._ But he was shaking so much that he knew he couldn't hide how he really felt. Even if he told himself differently. He was blinking back tears. He thought he'd known his heart had been inured after being broken so many times as a child. He was wrong. He'd just been...so wrong. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep the tears back.

Artemis actually looked like he was going to hit the drow, but only for a second until he unclenched his fist and simply shook his head. This was so confusing ... Jarlaxle wasn't acting like he was only using him - unless this was just a very clever way to manipulate him. After another moment of hesitation Artemis sat down on the bed again.

"I don't understand you. I don't understand what you want, or why you want it from me," he admitted, his voice now softer. In a way he knew - everything had felt so right, so comfortable during that night, but he couldn't understand why someone as intelligent as Jarlaxle was ready to ignore all caution just to get more nights like this.

In his surprise, Jarlaxle let his determination not to cry slip, and a tear that had been welling up for the entire time finally escaped and slid down his cheek. "You laughed. You liked it when I told you that you did nice things." The assassin's mood swings, he realized, frightened him. There was something more frightening about Entreri's lack of predictability than Zaknafein's had been, and Zak had scared everyone, including Malice. That was one reason she always beat him so much.

Instead of approaching the assassin, Jarlaxle backed away. He didn't want to be in close like he was before and then have Artemis turn violent. If he'd been any closer moments before, Artemis really would have begun to beat him.

Jarlaxle concentrated on making his voice level when he responded. "I wanted you to touch me. The things you did before and after. Not in the middle." His frustration welled up again. "You make it sound like I raped you. You...You were the one that demanded I do what I did!" Then his eyes widened. He didn't mean to make any accusations.

Unlike Zaknafein Artemis was, however, not an exceptionally violent person. He threatened, and he killed, but he hardly ever hit anyone; he never became violent simply because he lost his temper. Not even now that he felt almost like an animal cornered without any way to escape.

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Jarlaxle," the assassin replied evenly. "I don't say it was your fault; it was mine, and I have no excuse for my own failure. I asked you to do it because I wanted it, because I like it." He took a deep breath - it felt strange to talk about this, especially to a man he had no intention to touch ever again.

"But it's nothing I should have asked from an associate. Nor should you ask me to touch you. There are other ways to get what we had that night, with other people." Artemis didn't look as if he believed a single word of what he felt, but he did his best to sound convincing.

Jarlaxle knew that if he went up and tried to kiss Entreri, he may as well throw himself into the Clawrift, because the assassin would never speak to him again.

He lowered his eyes, and sat down on the floor. Nothing he had tried on anyone else had any effect on Artemis Entreri. It didn't matter that Artemis didn't believe his argument, it mattered that the assassin intended to stick to it. To get a cold, flat explanation was rebuttal enough. Jarlaxle shut down. He'd never been refused anything he wanted by another male before. And no one had ever told him after a night of _vith_ that they didn't want him for the same sexual reasons that had attracted them to him.

He rested his head on his arms. He didn't know what to do.

To his own surprise Artemis found that it hurt him to see Jarlaxle like that ... The drow looked so small, without that big hat, sitting on the floor and looking so depressed. Artemis wasn't quite sure, but he believed that he was actually feeling guilty. He had done this to Jarlaxle, it was his fault ... Of course, it was Jarlaxle's fault to allow himself to care that much, but that old argument didn't even convince Artemis himself.

After a while he leant forward, but he didn't touch the drow. "Jarlaxle, I'm ... I'm sorry." He wasn't sure why he had said that - apologies were meaningless. What people did was what mattered, not what they said. But he had to say something, anything, and he couldn't thing of anything else.

That was the last thing holding back Jarlaxle's tears. No one had ever apologized to him. There wasn't such an idea in drow culture. Everyone had just hurt him, and liked it. It was all so bad anyway that he didn't care that he was sitting there and crying in front of someone he was supposed to have the upper hand over. He just needed to. He'd never felt so much like dying in centuries.

Artemis groaned when Jarlaxle started to cry. _This is simply ridiculous,_ his reason told him, but Artemis couldn't help but feel sorry for the drow. Worse, he even wanted to give him some comfort ... except that he had never done anything like this before. He did nothing for a few minutes before he stood up and sat down, still a bit awkwardly despite the potion, beside Jarlaxle.

Again hesitating he put a hand on the drow's forearm, not caressing him, only letting his hand rest on the warm skin. He wished Jarlaxle would stop crying ... He didn't know how to deal with someone who was crying. He was an assassin. He didn't need to know things like this!

Jarlaxle whimpered. "I just wanted you to touch me. Why do you touch me now? I asked, and cajoled, and begged, and accused...I did everything I knew how to do." He closed his eyes, soaking up the feeling of Artemis' hand on his arm before it was taken away from him. Tears still rolled down his cheeks. "I don't know why you wouldn't give your fingers touching my skin and then change your mind now."

Artemis looked down at his own hand on the drow's arm, as if he was wondering how it had got there, but he didn't take it away. "I ... do you want me to stop? I'm not touching you the way you want me to ... I just don't want to see you like this," Artemis said, trying to convince himself as well as Jarlaxle. He really just wanted Jarlaxle to stop crying and leave, he wasn't hoping that this would develop into more ... did he? Not liking where his thoughts were going Artemis forced himself to continue, "You're not being yourself, Jarlaxle. And you seem to think that I am someone I am not. That night, that wasn't anything like me. I couldn't give you what you want, even if I wanted to. Just calm down, please." His voice sounded almost pleading now - he had to end this absurd situation.

Jarlaxle raised his head and looked at him. He couldn't see anything in the assassin's eyes. "You don't...you didn't know what I was talking about?" He gingerly touched Artemis' hand with his hand, silently begging Artemis not to move. "This - your hand on my arm, touching me - this is what I wanted. What I want. I need. You didn't know what I was talking about when we were lying in bed after finishing?" He couldn't believe that was true. "You are so different because...when we were together, you...did those things with your hands. You rested your hands on me without hurting me. You didn't scratch, or slap, or bite me...you just put your hands on me...and...it felt nice." He blinked, and squeezed out the last of his tears so that he could start thinking rationally again. "You don't know drow don't do that, do you?" Jarlaxle asked. "You touched me with your hands, and you didn't hurt me. Before you even had an orgasm. When I have a drow partner, I have to make him or her so tired they can't move in order to rest my hand on them...and then they usually slap me away."

Artemis couldn't meet Jarlaxle's gaze, he just stared on the floor. "I know what you meant. I had no idea about what drow do or do not, but I know that right now I am just touching you to make you calm down, nothing more," Artemis said quietly, and as if he remembered only then what he was doing he pulled his hand away.

"If somebody touching you like that is all you want ... every human whore would do," he added. "For me, those things are just ... side effects. I'm used to receiving them, not to giving them." Artemis felt so tired of this whole discussion; he didn't even know why he was putting up with it. He wasn't the tender, considerate lover Jarlaxle wanted to see in him; he just wasn't as sadistic and uncaring as drow apparently were.

Jarlaxle picked up his hat in one hand and his eye patch in the other. Then he stood, turned, and replaced them on his head. He'd taken all the abuse he could stand, apparently; blessed numbness spread through his veins. The mercenary didn't think he could speak if he tried. His mind was achingly blank.

But he paused. In that hesitation was the hope flickering inside him, past the numbness, that somehow Artemis would change his mind - that he would soothe his pain, like he did that night, as if he cared.

Artemis didn't immediately get up again, but he looked up at Jarlaxle. His gray eyes seemed much less cold now. He should be relieved that Jarlaxle was leaving ... before they could do something stupid again. But a part of him wanted to hold the drow back, wanted to embrace and kiss him ... Yet even if Artemis had been ready to give in to that wish, he wouldn't have known how to tell Jarlaxle that he wanted him to stay.

Jarlaxle didn't hear anything. His hope died. He was finally convinced by Artemis' words. There hadn't been anything that other night. There wasn't anything at all. That last death put his heart completely to rest in the gray, numb zone it had always been living in.

He walked to the door, opened it, and left.


	2. Chapter 2: Tattered Pride

**Part 2:**

Tattered Pride

--

Over a week had passed since Artemis had woken up, since he had had that awkward conversation with Jarlaxle. If his goal had been to push the drow away - and make sure he didn't come back - Artemis had been quite successful. His wounds were healing nicely thanks to a few potions Jarlaxle had sent, but of Jarlaxle himself he had only seen a few glimpses.

The assassin had started to feel more and more uneasy in his room over the last days. However, he didn't really dare to leave his room. Artemis Entreri was hardly a coward, but going to explore the Bregan D'aerthe headquarters alone, unarmed and still not in perfect health would be insane. He was starting to wonder when Jarlaxle would finally talk to him about business, about what he wanted Artemis to do - and he was wondering if he shouldn't insist on returning to the surface soon.

A week spent alone in a small room with nothing to do had also forced the assassin to think about their last conversation ... about what Jarlaxle had wanted from him. And although Artemis was still convinced that he had been right to push Jarlaxle away he felt incredibly lonely ... and, as unreasonable as it was, he felt hurt because Jarlaxle had virtually ignored him for the past days.

Sitting on his bed, his back against the wall and his legs stretched out, he had been waiting for Jarlaxle to come back for a few hours now, deciding that he wouldn't let him get away this time with his excuse of being extremely busy.

He didn't have to wait much longer. A few minutes later, the heavy door opened and Jarlaxle popped through. He searched the room inquisitively until his eyes rested on Artemis, as though he had expected the assassin to be in a different spot, or moving, or something.

The drow mercenary shut the door behind him. "Ah, Artemis." His eyes showed only the polite recognition of an acquaintance. "How are you this day?"

While Artemis found it much more reassuring to see Jarlaxle like this than sitting on the floor and crying like a child Artemis still missed the honest interest that had always been in Jarlaxle's voice before that conversation. He didn't show his disappointment, of course, and simply nodded when the drow entered the room.

"Better," he answered while he was getting up. "But I'm starting to get bored. I'm not used to doing nothing all day long." He managed to keep his voice calm and professional, but the words seemed somehow strange and unnatural to him.

Jarlaxle smiled at him; it seemed a strange, almost sardonically amused smile. "Then take your guards out for a tour among the soldiers. Mingle. Get to know the layout of this headquarters. I have already given your guards orders to do so if you ask."

He seemed poised to leave.

Artemis crossed the small room with a few steps, putting himself between Jarlaxle and the door, although he made sure that his body language remained non aggressive - which was hardly difficult given that he was unarmed.

Jarlaxle gave him a look of mild, blank surprise.

"I need new weapons," he stated. "I am not going anywhere unarmed. And, as you may remember, I hardly speak a word of drow. Nor do I know what my ... status is here. You still haven't told me what you need me for." Artemis grimaced a bit at these words - he hadn't realized how awkward that phrase sounded. Of course Jarlaxle had told him, but that was not what he meant ...

"Weapons?" Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow, mildly chiding. "Artemis, you know as well as I that I can't hand out weapons to every visitor that comes through these doors and still expect to have an organization left. It is hardly cost effective. Since you are not one of my soldiers, it is simply not possible to give you a weapon from the stocks reserved for my soldiers. It is hardly fair."

He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile; it had too much of an edge. "As you know, you are merely a visitor here until I can arrange a way to take you home myself, or arrange safe passage for you back to your homeland." Jarlaxle gestured eloquently. "Now, I know you enjoy standing in front of the door, but it happens to block my exit, and I would most appreciate it if you would move. I have too much business to attend to linger here, much as I enjoy your company." He laced his fingers together innocently. "We're both pragmatists. I'm sure in your experience as a pasha you have learned how much work and elbow oil it takes to keep a good sized organization running at its peak."

Artemis felt the urge to cut that smug grin off Jarlaxle's face, but he hardly showed it, except for a little twitch of his jaw muscles. "Are you hoping then that I just get killed while I am here so you won't have to worry about taking me back to the surface? I could give your weapons back when I leave if you're afraid you would go bankrupt otherwise," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And why are you in such a hurry now when you had so much free time only a week ago?" He didn't know what had possessed him to ask that. He should be glad that Jarlaxle had stopped talking about foolish things like needing him, but instead he almost compulsively tried to return to that subject.

He needed to know ... If anything Jarlaxle had said a week ago had been true then the drow couldn't just have forgotten it now. If he really cared, then he wouldn't have stopped caring so suddenly, and Artemis was desperately hoping for a little sign that Jarlaxle had meant his words. He knew it was pathetic, but he _wanted_ the drow to care.

That jab about free time certainly slapped the expression off Jarlaxle's face. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was a tiny, inexpressive line.

He stared at Artemis in glassy, disbelieving horror. The mercenary had convinced himself that he had robbed Artemis of the power to hurt. He had even taken time to ensure the assassin didn't acquire weapons.

Jarlaxle found out that he could still be hurt.

Artemis returned the drow's gaze before he looked away and shook his head. He didn't know what to think anymore. He had suppressed every emotion for most of his life, and now that suddenly had to cope with so many things at the same time - his defeat in battle, his helplessness and weakness, the insecurity of his current position, and the confusing desire to be close to Jarlaxle - he had no idea what to do. He had never learnt to deal normally with his feelings, he had never learnt how to lose a battle - whatever kind of a battle it was.

"You're running away," Artemis stated after a long silence, quickly deflecting so he wouldn't have to talk about himself.

Jarlaxle's mouth dropped open, and his bottom lip trembled. He suddenly seemed to have trouble breathing. "The things you said the other time you spoke to me hurt. Let me out. Don't hurt me again." He raised a trembling hand to push Artemis out of the way.

Artemis didn't move an inch. He had no possibility to make Jarlaxle stay against his will, but he wouldn't just step aside because Jarlaxle asked him to. "I told you the truth. I destroyed your illusion that I could give you what you think you need," Artemis said, but his calm was only a facade. "I didn't say ... or I said it, but I didn't mean that I don't care." He said that sentence too quickly, as if he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to finish saying it if he took his time. Artemis felt at the same time relieved that he had finally spoken those words and anxious, almost panicked. He had no idea how Jarlaxle would react.

At the first part of Artemis' speech, Jarlaxle's face was suffused with anger over being forced to hear the words he couldn't bear, and it seemed he might do anything from wrecking the room to grabbing Artemis by the throat. It was the second part of Artemis' speech that made him freeze, eyes gleaming, and look at Artemis queerly, as if he were trying to reign himself in and reconcile what Artemis was saying.

He succeeded in reigning himself in, and rocked back on his heels. The anger was fading rapidly from his face.

Jarlaxle narrowed his eyes at the assassin warily instead.

"You claim to me that you tortured me over my involvement with you...over semantics?" He almost shouted the last part of his sentence.

Artemis gave Jarlaxle a look as if he expected him to strangle him right there. "No," he sighed, shrugging helplessly. He didn't like where this was going again, but he couldn't have Jarlaxle believe that he didn't care. "I don't want either of us to make mistakes based on false assumptions," Artemis said after a few moments, carefully hiding behind reasonable arguments.

As long as he could at least pretend that this was rational, he might be able to deal with it. He suddenly stepped aside, away from the door. He had no right to stop Jarlaxle if the drow wanted to leave - either Jarlaxle would stay of his own accord or making him stay would be pointless.

Jarlaxle turned to face him, face shining with disbelief. "Yes. That's a yes. You did. You put me through all that pain just so you could sharpen your ambiguous words. You stabbed me with them. All this worry was over the distinction that you don't have what I need, but you still care." Then he did shout. He knew he could shout at the top of his lungs and it didn't matter. The room was sound proof. "I haven't slept all week! There's nothing I could do! I could hardly eat! I spent my days drinking wine and trying to get to Reverie! I spent hours in my room alone looking at shadows!"

Artemis retreated a step, and his eyes widened a bit. He didn't answer immediately, not sure if he should feel guilty over Jarlaxle's accusations or not, as he was still convinced that he had, at least partially, done the right thing. "This is not just about petty distinctions! Do you think caring turns me suddenly into a different man? Is honesty such a rare thing among drow that it offends you when somebody says the truth?" Artemis almost spat the words out. He had wanted to protect himself, of course, but he had protected Jarlaxle as well, hadn't he? Artemis hated pretending, and that was what Jarlaxle had apparently expected him to do.

"You can't attack me in my own stronghold." Jarlaxle almost let himself be buckled under again. The pain of this last week made him stand up to it. _No more_, his body told him. _We can't take anymore._ He held his chin firm, eyes blazing. "You can't tell me you told the truth. You didn't. You played a game that day. A game I didn't know we were playing. I may be drow, but don't you take advantage of me on the subject of truth. I may be immersed in lies in every waking moment of my life, but I know what truth is. You twisted the words you said to me when you were telling me 'the truth'. You told me that I did _nothing_ for you! You said that it was you that only wanted sex out of me, that you didn't care. You said you only touched me to SHUT ME UP." Jarlaxle was breathing heavily, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "If all you can tell me is that I did something wrong because I'm different than you, then YOU SHUT UP!"

Artemis just stared at Jarlaxle, so taken aback that he couldn't react at all for almost a minute. He hardly even blinked. Then he bit on his bottom lip and ran a hand through his hair, as if he needed an excuse to look away, before he turned his back to Jarlaxle. He couldn't stand to look at him now, or he wouldn't be able to say anything at all.

He considered his next words carefully, but when he started to speak he still hated himself for every word that left his mouth and that sounded horribly inadequate. "I didn't manipulate you," he said, and the way he was trying to justify himself almost sounded like a confession to his own ears. "I'm not the least bit more comfortable or more familiar with this than you. I am ... I was confused. I would rather hurt you than have you hurt me the moment you would realize that I'm not special." He wanted to say more, but his voice failed him, and he was ashamed that he showed his weakness so openly. It probably didn't matter anymore, not at the point they had reached by now, but decades of habit had made him incapable of talking about his feelings like a normal human would.

"I tell you that you are wrong because you ask me for something most other humans could do better than me," he added after a few moments he needed to compose himself. He turned back to Jarlaxle and looked at him almost sadly, as if he regretted what he thought they couldn't have.

Jarlaxle listened to him silently, a look of guilt on his face. When he was finished, he asked, "Do you think any other humans would ever want to approach me?" He shook his head. "Drow raids have made humans afraid of us, and they have a right to be. You were not afraid of me. Not unreasonably so. When they see me approach the way I did you, they scream and run away."

He didn't know what to say about Artemis' declaration that he wasn't special. He had never thought Artemis would have such a plunging low self-esteem.

There was nothing he could say to the accusation that he would hurt Artemis. Nothing had swayed the assassin before.

He took a step forward, knowing that if Artemis recoiled he'd feel a stab of hurt. "Please, please just take me in."

In that moment Artemis wanted nothing more than do what Jarlaxle asked, but he couldn't ... and he knew he shouldn't. "This is only going to hurt ... I'm not good at such things." He shook his head, ignoring the fact that he had never even tried to have a relationship with anyone. "You're right about humans, they would be scared ... but you're charming, you could convince them. You could find someone who is actually nice and caring. Most humans would be much better with those 'nice things' than I am, if that is what you want," he said with a sad laugh and lowered his gaze. He couldn't understand why anyone would want him - he was good, even excellent at his job, but there was nothing more about him that was worth admiring or even loving.

"I can't convince you," Jarlaxle said, his voice trembling bitterly. "You're the only person I want to care about me. I don't want someone 'nice and caring'. A truly nice and caring person would probably kill me and put my head on a spike." He shut his eyes, tears shimmering on his eyelashes. "You are forgetting that I still have a job to do, one that includes supporting Houses that send their youths out on drow raids."

He opened his eyes, successfully holding back his tears by a slim margin. It took everything he had. "No, I want _you_. _You_ sat and talked to me. _You_ smiled and laughed. You listened. You...you..." He licked his lips. They were dry. "You didn't come for the money or the promise to give you whatever you wanted. You came because I convinced you to. I supported you - I saved you - because you weren't what I was expecting when Vierna said she had found a human warrior to fight Drizzt. I was expecting someone dull and superstitious, a powerful warrior by virtue of brute strength and bloodlust. I found you. I wanted to know you." Jarlaxle gestured in frustration. "You were so intelligent! You had so many things to say!"

Artemis couldn't help it, but he liked hearing those words. He had enjoyed talking to Jarlaxle - it wasn't something he could ever do in Calimport: just speak his mind, talk seriously and honestly about his thoughts. He liked the idea that someone liked him as a person, but at the same time it was such an unfamiliar thought that it scared him. Artemis had spent most of his life trying to convince himself that he wasn't a _person_ like other people, but simply an assassin. And Jarlaxle had managed to get through that armor ...

Jarlaxle dropped on his knees in front of Artemis to plead. "Why can't I have you?"

When the drow dropped on his knees Artemis' thoughts were abruptly interrupted, and before he could think about what he was doing he grabbed Jarlaxle's wrist to pull him on his feet. "Don't kneel, I'm not a priest," he said more sharply than he wanted to, but his voice became softer when he added, "I just doubt that you would want to have me if you knew me." Artemis' self-esteem about anything but his fighting prowess and his self-discipline had never been high, and the defeat against Drizzt had taken what was the most important thing for him. He was a failure, and he didn't understand how Jarlaxle could ignore that.

Jarlaxle lifted a hand and pushed his hat off, letting it fall to the floor, and insinuated himself into Artemis' arms. He put his hand over Artemis' hand on his wrist, cupping it. "Then tell me. You have no better way to prove your point if that is so."

Artemis tensed up, but he didn't pull his hand away. "There's nothing to tell," he said almost sadly. He didn't believe Drizzt's words that his life was empty. It wasn't Drizzt, but Jarlaxle who had made him realize that he had almost nothing except his skill with the blades. "You want me because I'm different, because you don't understand me. I'm not ... _interesting_, or entertaining, or whatever else that could make you like me." He sighed. Usually he would have scolded himself for his self-pity, but right now he didn't have the discipline to make himself shut up.

Jarlaxle reached up with one hand and buried it in Artemis' hair. The other he rested on Entreri's neck. "You are special, and interesting, and entertaining - when you're not so...sad." _Sad_ was another word drow didn't have. "You have a way to make me laugh. You have a...humor. You entertain me even when you are angry about something, because you say such clever things. Please, don't believe that you have nothing but your work. You're not exploring yourself."

It felt strange to have Jarlaxle touch him like that, but it was also nice ... it was comforting. Artemis just enjoyed the feeling for a few seconds, realizing once again that he didn't want Jarlaxle to go away. "I know myself, and I know that I have lost the only thing that made me special. Now I'm just another failure." If he had thought about it rationally he wouldn't believe his words himself, but they sounded right to him now. But then again, Jarlaxle's hands touching him felt right, too.

"What makes you special?" Jarlaxle asked. "Do you know?" He brushed his cheek against Artemis', closing his eyes in that moment and basking in the roughness.

"I was the best; that was the only thing that mattered," he replied. He closed his eyes, leaning in Jarlaxle's touch. It numbed the pain and the humiliation, even now that he was talking about it.

Jarlaxle ran his fingers through Artemis' hair and nuzzled his neck. "The best assassin," Jarlaxle murmured, mostly for his own benefit. He thought about what Artemis was trying to say. "Why? Why was being the best so important? How did it come to mean your life to you? Why?"

Artemis had never talked to anyone about this, but he had thought about it so often that the answers came easily. They were obvious. "Because it was the only way to survive. It was the only thing that made me different from the other children in the gutter ..." Artemis' words might come as a surprise to Jarlaxle - the assassin's manners hardly were those of a poor commoner who had grown up on the street. "To lose was to die," he whispered, not knowing how drow-like that sentence was. "I wanted to be more than the useless filth everybody thought I was."

Jarlaxle was filled with immense sadness. If he hadn't cried so much before, he would probably cry now. "I know," he whispered. "You had to survive. You had to prove they were wrong." He looked into Artemis' eyes. "But that's not who you are."

He held his eyes, even though he knew his next words would be difficult. "Secretly...you still think you are what everyone accused you of being. You show it on the inside. You put up a barrier, an illusion of someone who is the best at what they do and is therefore special. But you can't be that if you don't believe that. That is why Drizzt's defeat of you hurt so much. You _want_ to be more than useless filth. The way you say those words makes me see that you think on the inside there is something wrong with you." He traced a circle on Artemis' chest with his fingers. "What do you think is so horrible that it will cancel out everything you have ever accomplished?"

He put a hand on Jarlaxle's biceps as if he wanted to push him away, but instead he just tightened his grip, not realizing that he was probably hurting him. "I _know_ that something is wrong with me if I make a mistake. If I fail they were right. My whole life was so focused on being the best that it became the only thing that mattered, the only thing I wanted. It _is_ who I am. And Do'Urden ... he has everything I have refused myself, everything I have been refused. He is everything I despise, he is weak, self-righteous, arrogant. He doesn't seem to care if others are better than him or not. And yet he defeated me. He thinks he has shown me that my way of life is empty, but he's wrong. He has only shown me I failed at doing what I chose to do."

Jarlaxle didn't know what to say. He had to think back and analyze Entreri's every word. At first he thought that Do'Urden was a change of topic, but then he decided that Drizzt's life was exactly the point.

"You feel not that his skill was greater," Jarlaxle said. His tone was wondering. "You feel that your way of life has not failed you. You feel as though you have failed you. That you have reached for what will shut them up, to make them stop telling you how little value you have, and you have failed...because you couldn't be greater than what they said you were."

His right hand still grasped Jarlaxle's arm rightly, but he didn't seem to notice. Artemis needed a few moments to realize that he was almost crying - but he couldn't. But his voice sounded as if he could hardly hold back the sobs. "I just ... don't understand. I have done everything, I have sacrificed everything to become what I am, and it wasn't enough. And some little drow noble pushes me right back into the gutter I came from. Doesn't that mean that they were right?" The words were just pouring out - he had already shown Jarlaxle so much of himself that there was no point in holding back anything now. Not to mention that Artemis doubted that he would be able to pull himself together.

"No." Jarlaxle instilled as much firmness as he could into his voice without breaking the low, hypnotic velvet of his voice. He knew what effect this tone had on most, and he was banking on it to keep Artemis together now. "No, they are not right. You have been pushed back into no gutter. You were defeated, yes, but you fell from a cliff. That height is not so far that it pushes you back through the years as well. You are still the person you worked so hard to become. It wasn't enough against Drizzt Do'Urden... for many reasons. None of them have to do with some kind of burdening inadequacy in yourself. Isn't it true that I can see right through you?" He smiled reassuringly. "If I am as good as that, and you know you have evidence to prove that I am, why haven't I seen this thing that you are so confident is holding you back? I don't see any ugly truth inside of you. I see a strong man with a weak heart because someone has told him that he is weak. Something has happened that proved it to you. If you were not convinced by it, you would not be so afraid of whatever you think is weakening you."

"I had convinced myself that I wasn't weak. I had shown it to myself and to everyone else. And he just destroyed everything, he took away everything my world was build upon." Jarlaxle's voice was probably the only thing that kept Artemis calm enough to form any coherent thoughts. "And if what you told me about drow is true, then somebody told him as a male as much that he's weak as they told me. I can't live like this ... I can't live with the thought that I failed, not just once, but at everything." He pulled Jarlaxle closer, clutching to him as if he expected the world to fall to pieces if he had nothing to hold on to.

Jarlaxle held on to him tightly. "No, Drizzt did not have a normal upbringing. He had someone who believed in him, who fed him rhetoric contrary to the Spider Queen's teachings, who told him to be strong and planted the idea of escape in his head. If Drizzt Do'Urden had been as alone as you, he would be a patrol captain in Menzoberranzan."

He'd been trying to get to the heart of Entreri's problem so he could fix it. He didn't mean to tear the assassin apart. The speed at which Artemis was unraveling frightened him.

"You see likenesses that are not there. You and he and different individuals. Not the same."

Artemis was simply incapable of moderating his feelings - either he suppressed them completely, or, if he didn't, he couldn't control them anymore. "But if that is the difference between him and me, it only means that our upbringing counts more than our own work. That I will always be inferior to those who had someone to help them."

"I didn't have someone to help me," Jarlaxle whispered in his ear. "When I was a child, no one supported me or attempted to give me strength. Tell me then how I managed to become as powerful as I am - why Drizzt would have been a patrol captain, but I am still the leader of Bregan D'aerthe?"

"Apparently you were less weak than I am," Artemis replied, his voice sad and yet empty, as if he didn't even have enough strength left to be desperate. He sighed and disengaged from Jarlaxle, giving the drow a confused look. He was still wondering why Jarlaxle was here, why he didn't laugh at him or leave. Artemis sat down on the bed, and while he didn't ask Jarlaxle to join him he didn't send him away either.

Jarlaxle sat down with him, draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled them tightly together. "No," he said, and there was a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face. He winked at Artemis and laughed. "That's not it at all. Do you want to know the secret?" He paused for a moment, and then went ahead. "I had help too. But when I was not a child anymore." He grinned, raising an index finger.

"You see, my friend, it does not matter when you have help. It is the help that defines the course of success. If you think back, you'll see that it's true. I know that when you were a child you had no help, but think about your rising years. I think you'll find that you did receive help. It may be a small amount, but it was there... and even on that small, tiniest amount of help, you went so far. Do you remember?"

Jarlaxle let Artemis think.

"The few people who helped me did it only because they knew I would be successful. They helped me because they were afraid, or because they thought it would be profitable." He leant against Jarlaxle, closing his eyes again for a few moments. He was too tired to argue with Jarlaxle; he knew that the drow only wanted to make him feel better, while they both knew the facts. Artemis had failed, Drizzt had not. It was as simple as that, and no matter how many kind words and clever arguments Jarlaxle would come up with those facts wouldn't change. Artemis had lost the only thing he cared about, and now he was stuck in the Underdark, nothing more than a depressed, weak man who didn't know where to go or what to do.

"Exactly," Jarlaxle said softly, stroking his hair. "So imagine what you would be able to do if you had someone helping you because they cared. Not only about your success, but about your well-being?"

"I don't want to rely on others. Eventually they're only going to betray you." Despite his words he seemed to be grateful for Jarlaxle's caresses. His eyes were still closed, a clear sign that Artemis trusted the drow at least in this moment not to hurt him.

"Ah, but you wouldn't be relying on others; you would be relying on their help," Jarlaxle said. "There is a difference. If there were not, nothing I could say or do would keep you in this room. I know you don't trust me. You've said so. But do you know why you're here? Because you trust my help. If you have the right people helping you, you will be so strengthened by their help that if ever they choose to betray you, you will have become too strong to betray."

Jarlaxle kissed him on the temple. "For instance, if I were to teach you how to weave magical spells, and then betrayed you, you would not unlearn the magical spells you learned. It would be very foolish to betray you under those circumstances, for you could turn everything I gave you against me." He smiled. "For your information, that is why I will not, no matter how long we remain together. I would be fighting myself as well as you, and the odds aren't good that I would win."

Artemis couldn't help smirking a bit at these last words, and he looked up at Jarlaxle again. "Nobody ever offered me that kind of help, probably for the same reasons you wouldn't. But it doesn't matter. Nothing is going to change what happened ... I just don't know how to accept it." His voice was serious again, but he put his hand on Jarlaxle's, softly running his thumb over the smooth skin.

"You are going to change," Jarlaxle said, dropping his smile. "The event will stay the same because that is what events set in time do. It is only yourself that can evolve from this. If you can find something else to replace your 'special' trait, you will be able to accept this loss."

"I do not want to change," Artemis muttered, not caring how childish and pathetic that sounded. "I want to go back to what I had ..." Not that he had been happy back then, but being happy had never been one of Artemis Entreri's goals in life. Things had been easier before he had met Drizzt, before he had met Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle stroked his cheek. "I know...but you can't. You'll die if you won't change. It is a certainty. And what good will that do you or me?"

Artemis winced and looked away. "I don't know ... I'm not sure I care. What good will it do if I live?" He had always done everything to survive, but until recently he had never been forced to question why. Surviving had been an end in itself, but now it didn't seem enough anymore.

"I care," Jarlaxle said. "If you live, it will prove that you do not accept failure as your eternal state. Look at yourself. You cannot decide as of yet that life is pointless. You are young, well trained, determined. If you do not try again, what do you think you will let everyone say about you?"

"They're not going to say anything. They will forget me, or, like Do'Urden and his friends, think of me as a soulless monster no matter what I do. It doesn't matter. And I don't see any determination when I look at myself, not anymore." He looked Jarlaxle in the eyes and softly stroked the drow's cheek. "You're just trying to cheer me up, but you know I'm right."

Jarlaxle took his hand and squeezed it. "No, I know I'm right, but you're too full of despair to see it. Don't shut me out that way. I am trying to tell you the truth. Your life is not over." He leaned forward and touched his lips to Entreri's in a long, slow kiss.

Artemis shook his head, not even remotely convinced, but he didn't say anything. He returned Jarlaxle's kiss just as softly while he wrapped his arms around the drow's slender body, pulling him closer. Maybe he just needed to forget his thoughts. He couldn't even bring himself to feel bad for seeing this as a distraction.

"It's alright," Jarlaxle said, seeing the flicker of doubt on his face. "Let yourself forget for a while. A distraction is what you need."

He wove his fingers into Artemis' hair and slowly laid him down on the bed, kissing his face. His other hand trailed down Artemis' chest.

Artemis was surprised that Jarlaxle had read him so easily, but at the same time he was grateful that the drow didn't mind. With a content sigh on his lips he lay down, eyes once again closed. The fact that he even allowed Jarlaxle to do this was already a sign that he was changing, he thought for a moment, but he pushed that idea away.

He slid one hand under Jarlaxle's vest, stroking his back. It was such a simple thing to do, but the drow had seemed to enjoy it so much last time, as if it was something special.

Jarlaxle's eyes almost rolled back in his head. He collapsed on top of Artemis, suddenly weak arms failing to keep him propped up on his elbows. He rested his head on Artemis' shoulder and drew lazy lines on the assassin's abdomen with his fingers. His eyelids grew heavy, and a purr started in his throat. "Oh...Artemis..."

_I'm so tired...I don't know if I can stay awake. But... but I was trying to do this for Artemis._

Artemis chuckled, but he didn't seem to mind Jarlaxle's weight. He continued to stroke the drow's back, and after a few moments he leant forward and nibbled on Jarlaxle's earlobe, very carefully, afraid that the drow might not like it.

Pleasure coursed through Jarlaxle in such a sharp wave that he tasted it on his tongue; it was metallic. He exhaled raggedly.

The hint of a smile appeared on Artemis' face, and his lips found their way back to Jarlaxle's ear. He licked over the pointy tip and, giving in to a crazy idea that had just crossed his mind, he placed a soft kiss on Jarlaxle's bald head.

He experienced a full body shudder a moment later. "If you do that again," he told Artemis, "I am going to have an orgasm."

He didn't know himself which one of the two he meant.

Artemis gave him a surprised look. "Oh... I enjoyed doing that," he whispered and kissed Jarlaxle on the lips instead. He had his doubts about Jarlaxle's words, but he would never have expected anyone to be so responsive to any of his touches, and Artemis had no intention of ending this so quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

--

Jarlaxle fell to the bed limply. His heart was still pounding, and he was far beyond not being able to move. He was shaking. A sheen of sweat covered his slim, muscular form. He swallowed, gasping, and looked over at Artemis.

The assassin had tortured him all the way until the point of no return, and when he had climaxed, it was so powerful it was painful. He hadn't known he could feel that way from having too much pleasure. He'd always thought he could never get enough. If this were a battle, he would have gladly crawled away like a coward and hid in some crevice in the Clawrift.

Artemis was lying flat on his back, his eyes closed and his lips parted. He looked even more exhausted than Jarlaxle, if that was possible, and for once he seemed almost entirely relaxed. He wondered how he had been able to reject Jarlaxle last time. He had never felt this satisfied and content as with the drow, as if his problems had vanished in this haze of pleasure.

He only opened his eyes once his breathing had calmed. Quickly licking his lips, feeling as if he could still taste Jarlaxle on them, he sat up and looked at the drow. His gray eyes seemed darker than usual, still slightly glassy, as if he hadn't regained his usual self-control yet.

Jarlaxle was still lying flat on his back, his arms spread out. He had descended the heights of his sensory journey, from the point where he was shaking down to more normal, pleasurable paralysis. He couldn't have moved an inch if he had wanted to. Jarlaxle didn't.

He wasn't sure if he wanted anything. His mind, instead of ticking with plans, was full of pleasantly dispersed clouds. A mind always on the edge, always alert, even in his reveries, finally at rest.

Jarlaxle couldn't help but let a smile spread over his face. The feeling of having no thoughts at all was surprisingly good. The clanking of the monumental machine inside his skull was silent.

Artemis just stared at him for a while, not sure what he should do. Touch Jarlaxle, kiss him? It was a strange thought, and the drow looked so at peace that the assassin didn't want to disturb him. Just lie down again and sleep? Even more awkward, Artemis decided when his mind slowly started to function again, although he still felt as if a wall of cotton separated him from the rest of the world.

After a while he decided to get out of bed and clean himself up a bit. He straightened and got out of bed, his movements slower than usual, showing clearly how exhausted he was. He didn't really want to get up, but he felt out of place in that bed.

Jarlaxle was reminded of his own state when Artemis began tidying himself up, and he rolled over and stuck one leg off the edge of the bed, hoping gravity would help him a little bit when it came to getting out of bed. His foot gingerly touched the plush rug on the floor, and he shifted his weight.

He wasn't sure what happened, but he sort of fell on the floor. Very slowly. It was as if he had just dissolved. His legs gave out, one bit at a time, and when he reached for the edge of the bed to steady himself, he discovered that his arms weren't working, either.

He sat on the rug beside the bed and tried to think of how to go about getting up. He wasn't sure of anything right now, but he did know that he wanted a basin of warm water and a wash cloth.

Normally Artemis might have reacted quickly enough to keep the drow from falling, but in his current state he only turned around and gave Jarlaxle a confused look when Jarlaxle hit the floor, as if Artemis was wondering how the drow had got there. He took a towel and wiped the water off his face before he walked over to Jarlaxle.

He slowly knelt down beside him, and after hesitating for a second he put a hand on Jarlaxle's shoulder. "Jarlaxle? What happened?" he asked, and he realized only now that he was ... worried.

Jarlaxle stared at Artemis' legs instead of looking at his face. He didn't know what he was going to say, exactly, except that he was tired, and when he opened his mouth, all that came out was an unintelligible mumble, anyway. "Nnnn, I abbn en hrr a hmm." Basically.

He looked away altogether and tried again. He decided to concentrate on the most important word. "Tired."

He didn't know what Artemis was going to do, and that made him uncomfortable. He'd have preferred it if Artemis had stayed over at the other end of the room and let him sort out his problem by himself.

Artemis scowled a bit, and his thoughts were getting clearer quickly. He was relieved that Jarlaxle was only tired - he didn't know what else he should have expected, but still. "Maybe you should just get back into bed," he said, his voice now a bit more gruff than before. For a second he wondered if he should help Jarlaxle, but the very idea shocked him so much that he turned around abruptly and walked back to the basin.

Jarlaxle was relieved when Artemis moved away. He was still uncomfortable, but he didn't have that tight, uneasy feeling in his stomach. He licked his lips and worked his jaw for a moment, getting back the ability to speak properly before he bothered again. "When I'm clean."

The truth was, he was dangerously close to passing out, and he knew this. He just didn't care. He was going to stand up, walk over to the basin, and wash himself, or the world be damned. He forced his muscles to tense up into a modicum of their usual strength and sprang to his feet all at once in order to avoid a mutiny. He was up, and he was stable, but he didn't dare move. He tried to coax his body into a state of cooperation.

Jarlaxle slid forward one step, and then another...feeling precious energy leaking out of him like a sail with a hole in it. And there was an alarming hollow feeling beginning to steal over him.

The room began to get gray at the edges.

"I'm...fine," he whispered.

He curled his hands into fists of defiance. His fingers barely had enough strength to rest against his palms. He had the oddest feeling that time would hang in the air forever at this exact moment.

Artemis tied his hair back and looked once again at Jarlaxle, now with a deep frown on his face. Of course the drow was exhausted, Artemis was tired as well, but not that much. But he knew that it would be inappropriate to help Jarlaxle if the drow didn't want help Artemis remained silent and just nodded.

He quickly finished cleaning himself up, put on his trousers - he didn't like to sleep naked - and went back to bed. However, he only sat down on the edge of it, glimpsing at Jarlaxle a few times. Now that his hands had come to rest, his thoughts were assaulting him again. He started to wonder what in the Nine Hells he had just done. What had happened to him? Where was the controlled, disciplined man he had used to be? And who was this weak stranger who broke down in front of a drow he had only known for a few months, who slept with him _twice_ although it was so obviously a mistake? That couldn't be him. Artemis wanted to be angry, to accuse Jarlaxle of making him feel these and do those things, but he couldn't. It was his own fault. Not Jarlaxle's. It was impossible to be angry at someone who was in such a pathetic state as the drow right now.

The air seemed curiously lighter as Jarlaxle realized time was moving on as normal.

He made it over to the basin, even though he felt as though his legs were poorly made stilts grafted to his torso, and picked up a clean wash cloth. He wetted it and wiped his face, sighing in relief at the clean feeling of all the sweat being removed.

He dunked his wash cloth and wrung it, then went to wash off his shoulders. He moved to his arm.

The washcloth fell from his fingers. It hit the floor with a wet _sop_. It was a moment of indecision for Jarlaxle whether or not to even pick it up. It was miles away, on the dangerous floor, the realm he had just risen from.

But the thought of water soaking into his precious carpet, seeping through the fine fibers, made Jarlaxle commit to wasting his energy to bend down and pick it back up. He didn't support himself on the dresser just to show that he could do this by himself.

Trembling with exertion, he straightened, washcloth in hand.

An errant twitch of his numbed fingers and it fell on the floor again.

That made him angry.

He bent over and picked it up again, closing his fist around the washcloth with all of his might.

He rinsed the washcloth in the basin again and began washing his chest, hurrying because he was determined to finish before he was forced to drop the washcloth again because his hand would lose its strength.

He did finish, but his hand went numb and dropped the washcloth before he could get it back on the dresser.

Jarlaxle stood there a moment, just staring at the washcloth on the floor. It seemed to be provoking him. He couldn't stand to be provoked. If it was a washcloth, an inanimate object, he didn't care. By falling on the floor, it was defying him.

He cursed, gripped the edge of the dresser, and bent down. He snatched the washcloth off the floor. His hand was trembling violently. He knew this was not good. He wrenched himself back up to a standing position, and rinsed the washcloth, panting.

At first Artemis decided not to look at Jarlaxle. This was private, it was none of his business what Jarlaxle did. It felt awkward enough to be still in the same room. But when the washcloth fell down a second time, the wet sound interrupting Artemis' brooding, the assassin looked up again. He couldn't help but watch the rest of Jarlaxle's struggle, noticing against his will once again that the drow was dangerously beautiful. Despite his exhaustion the memory of feeling that body in his arms made Artemis shiver. He almost cursed aloud and turned away, staring at the floor with such an angry expression as if he blamed it for his troubles.

Jarlaxle had now decided that there was no way in the nine hells that a bathing ritual after vith would go unfinished. He would not let a washcloth and a basin - the basin was just watching him after all! It was complicit! - conquer him, when he was the most powerful mercenary male in Menzoberranzan.

He angrily scrubbed his arms, and moved on to his back, pressing his hands so hard beyond their capacity at the moment that they cramped up. He welcomed that vicious feeling, gritting his teeth. _Now_, he thought, _now the washcloth will stay in my hands where it belongs!_

When he finished washing his legs, he discovered that he couldn't get back up again. As hard as he tried, he couldn't straighten out of his crouch. His entire body trembled with the effort, and still, he was unable to move. He tossed the washcloth on the dresser in disgust.

_What, now you, too?_ he said to his body.

He was so exasperated he couldn't even fathom what he was supposed to do.

Artemis hesitated. He discovered to his surprise that it _hurt_ him to see Jarlaxle like this. And still ... he didn't want to help. He didn't want to admit that he cared.

The assassin bit on his lips and finally got up. He crossed the room quickly and simply pulled the drow in an upright position again, doing the work that Jarlaxle's muscles refused to do. Artemis waited for a second after he had drawn back his hands, to make sure that Jarlaxle could keep his balance. Without looking the drow in the eyes he returned to the bed and sat down. It was already embarrassing enough for Jarlaxle to need help; Artemis didn't want to embarrass him more by asking if he was all right.

Jarlaxle stood, and turned around, facing Artemis, agape.

He didn't know what had happened. He could still feel the warmth left by Artemis' hands. Why did Artemis do that? He had been struggling with himself for a long time - a feeling distorted by his exhaustion - and Artemis hadn't so much as said a word... Why the intervention now?

He knew he didn't want to fall down again. He crossed the room, tottering dangerously at every step, and lay down on the bed with an "oomph." He was frightened as he never had been before of the floor. He inched away from the edge of the bed.

Artemis still looked anywhere but at Jarlaxle. He tried to tell himself that he had done something perfectly normal and sensible, and it still confused him. With anyone else, he wouldn't have bothered. And his reason for helping Jarlaxle was not just that he depended on the drow.

"You really should sleep," Artemis said. He would have preferred it if Jarlaxle had left and gone to his own room, but he couldn't ask that from him. But the bed was broad enough, so he just laid down, as far away from Jarlaxle as possible.

Jarlaxle looked at Artemis' back. "I don't know if I can."

"Do you want me to leave?" Artemis asked and sighed. He was so tired himself, he just wanted to sleep. But if Jarlaxle insisted, he would leave ... Artemis wasn't sure if he would be able to sleep here anyway.

"No," Jarlaxle said, surprised. He was alarmed. His eyes suddenly burned, and he didn't think it was from being tired. That question upset him a lot.

Artemis finally looked at Jarlaxle. He didn't know what the drow was talking about. He would have understood if Jarlaxle couldn't sleep because Artemis' presence bothered him, but what other reason could there be? "What is it then? You're exhausted, you have to sleep."

Jarlaxle's heart beat faster. He rubbed his eyes with a fist. "I-I know. I can't."

He didn't know that he couldn't. He wasn't even trying. But he felt a mild panic attack at the thought of sleep. He hadn't been successful in reverie for a week, and wine had drowned him until he simply lost consciousness and woke up later, little refreshed.

It was as if he was afraid that he had forgotten how to sleep.

"Calm down," Artemis whispered, trying to sound reassuring. He moved a bit closer to Jarlaxle, but without touching him. "Stop talking, stop thinking. Just sleep." He still didn't know why he bothered ... why he was ignoring his own thoughts just to make Jarlaxle calm down. He was still angry at himself and confused by what he had done, but he knew it would be inappropriate to say that now.

Jarlaxle settled into a comfortable spot on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to do as Artemis asked. He didn't know why he did, but something in the assassin's tone compelled him to.

It was thirty seconds before he was asleep.

Artemis tried to think of something else to say, but then he noticed that Jarlaxle was already asleep. The assassin almost smiled before he closed his eyes as well. He was still thinking too much, but his body was protesting - it had needed its rest already half an hour ago. Artemis fell asleep only a few minutes after Jarlaxle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

--

Artemis was rather surprised when he woke up - he hadn't expected to sleep that long, not with Jarlaxle still in his bed. The assassin still felt weary and not entirely rested, but he knew he wouldn't fall asleep again now. He sighed deeply and glanced at the sleeping drow beside him. Jarlaxle really had to be exhausted if he slept longer than a human.

Artemis got out of bed as carefully as possible and crossed the room without a sound. He didn't want Jarlaxle to wake up, because he didn't want to talk about what had happened last night. And, to be honest, he was also worried and wanted the drow to rest properly.

Artemis even managed to wash his face almost soundlessly and began to shave, hoping that Jarlaxle was so fast asleep that he wouldn't hear anything.

Jarlaxle twitched, and shifted, turning over and clutching the pillow. He whispered something in Drow, one hand opening and closing. After a moment, he let out a sigh and relaxed again, the tension draining out of his body abruptly. He was still deeply asleep.

Artemis tensed up when Jarlaxle moved, but he sighed in relief when Jarlaxle didn't wake up. He would have liked to know what Jarlaxle had said, but his knowledge of drow was fairly limited, not enough to understand the mumbled words. The assassin finished to shave and put on his shirt. Then he hesitated.

It would feel awkward to stay here, but he didn't want to leave the room alone. He didn't want to face the taunts of the drow soldiers, and he didn't really want Jarlaxle to wake up and discover that Artemis had left either. Silently cursing himself for giving in to his lust last night and creating this situation the assassin sat down on the chair that stood in a corner of the room.

He tried to busy himself with cleaning his already clean fingernails.

"_Nau, qualla_," Jarlaxle mumbled a moment later. Then, as before, he was resting peacefully.

Artemis looked up again. At least he could understand those two words, and they made him uneasy. _No, please._ But he didn't get up - he respected Jarlaxle's privacy, and he would just pretend he hadn't heard or seen anything.

Jarlaxle was silent for a while.

Artemis was soon wondering if Jarlaxle would never wake up. He just remained seated on the chair, shifting a bit every once in a while. Sometimes he glanced at Jarlaxle, but most of the time he just stared at the floor or the walls. He tried to untangle his thoughts and feelings, but everything was blurry in his mind, as if he had to deal with an intrigue he couldn't see through.

His sense of time was usually highly accurate, and unless he had lost it during those weeks in the Underdark Jarlaxle didn't wake up for a few hours. Artemis was getting more and more uneasy, but he still didn't want to leave or to wake the drow.

Jarlaxle did finally stir, proving that he was alive and could wake up. He sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes. For the first few moments, he looked confused and vulnerable, squinting as if he had forgotten where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

Then he began the process of waking up by feeling for his hat, finding that it was on the floor, and coming to quick conclusions about what he was doing before he fell asleep.

He actually snapped his fingers, as if recollecting something important, and looked at the bed near-sightedly. He didn't find Artemis in it. The mercenary rubbed his eyes again and scanned the room. He started on the wrong side, so it took him nearly a minute to find Artemis, sitting and staring at him.

Jarlaxle gave a little start, and smoothed down the covers as if to keep the assassin from noticing. He didn't say anything right away, which gave Artemis an opportunity to get in the first word. A rare occurrence.

Artemis just stared at Jarlaxle when the drow finally woke up. The assassin seemed incredibly tensed up, sitting there, his whole body language screaming 'Stay away.' It wasn't even a conscious thought, rather a vague fear. He noticed that Jarlaxle didn't say anything, surprisingly enough, but instead of taking the opportunity Artemis kept silent, eyeing the drow suspiciously.

Jarlaxle seemed to be disheartened by this reception. "I am sorry for staying asleep so long that it forced you out of your bed. I should let you continue to rest."

He started to climb out of bed and apparently found only then that he was completely naked. He froze. He wasn't normally a shy person, but he seemed hesitant to expose his body to Artemis' unfriendly gaze.

Artemis looked away. He didn't want to stare at Jarlaxle's naked body. It was one thing to do that when they were in bed, but in every other situation it was inappropriate. Not to mention that he was afraid that his desires might reappear if he looked too much at the man he wanted.

"It's all right. You were exhausted," Artemis stated, and his voice was less unfriendly than Jarlaxle might have expected. "I've slept enough."

Jarlaxle slid out of bed gratefully and dressed. He walked over to Artemis now that he was comfortably attired and rested a hand on the back of his chair, curious. "Are you well enough?"

Artemis only looked up again when the drow was dressed again. He gave Jarlaxle an insecure look. "I am fine," he said out of habit. He wasn't even remotely fine, but he didn't know how to say that. He doubted that he wanted Jarlaxle to know.

"Would you like the things that I've kept from you?" Jarlaxle asked, looking guilty. "Would you like a sword and dagger? Would you like to learn the Drow language?"

"I told you I needed weapons," Artemis said stiffly. "I don't need to learn your language, I have no intention of staying here. I need nothing else." He sounded so defensive, almost hurt. He felt as if Jarlaxle was trying to pay him, as if the drow thought he owed him something for last night. While he knew that Jarlaxle didn't see him as a whore, the very idea still offended Artemis. He didn't want anything in return for sleeping with Jarlaxle. He didn't trade his tenderness and lust in for favors and gifts.

Jarlaxle patted the back of the chair and pasted on a smile. "Oh. Alright. Right. I should have given you weapons earlier, if you had planned to leave so quickly. I made a stupid oversight because I was angry with you. I'll see what I can...what would you like? What sort of weapon? I can find something that has magical capabilities, or I can find something that has none."

Artemis shifted uncomfortably before he got up suddenly, if only to bring a bit of a distance between them. "Just give me some decent weapons you don't need. I don't want gifts from you." He was confused by Jarlaxle's behavior. The drow was almost acting as if he was scared.

Jarlaxle's smile was infused with more and more pain. "Sorry." He stared at Artemis for a moment, as if he couldn't think of what to say, or he couldn't speak. "I'll...Sorry."

Artemis' features softened a bit. He hadn't meant to hurt Jarlaxle, he wasn't even angry at him. He just didn't know how he was supposed to react. He thought about touching Jarlaxle, but he didn't dare. "I just ... You don't owe me anything. I don't want you to think that," he said in a softer voice.

"I do," Jarlaxle said, suddenly stepping forward and taking his hand. "I treated you terribly! In a way unbefitting a friend or an ally. I was rude. I was cruel. I denied you basic necessities and betrayed your trust by keeping you in this room. I let my temper get the best of me in a pressured situation, and I allowed it to happen because you were the weaker."

"Yes. You did all of that. And I won't forget or ignore it. But you don't owe me just because you ... because we spent last night together." Artemis had looked Jarlaxle in the eyes first, but now he averted his gaze, and his voice was trembling a bit. He was still ashamed that he had lost control. Twice.

Jarlaxle stamped his foot. "That's not why I owe you! I owe you because I called myself your friend, and then I abused my power in a childish display of anger the very first time we had an argument! It was not right!"

He waved an index finger. "What my friend Artemis Entreri needs is a friend, not a jailer and not a master. He needs to be told how great he is and how much potential he still has. He needs to fight and regain his honor, his self-respect."

Then he deflated, looking at the floor. "And I can't do any of those things. I'm a miserable savior. I know how to make people work for me, but not how to make them want to be with me. You are right in wanting to go back to the Surface. That is where you belong. Just as I belong down here. Tight-fisted-ness isn't a bad trait down here. No one will be able to tell my faults. You show me to the light...and I'm cracked."

"Don't do that," Artemis said and turned away. It was bad enough that he was wallowing in self-pity; it hardly helped if Jarlaxle was doing the same. Artemis didn't want to see Jarlaxle like this, he wanted to believe that the drow would just be all right.

"It's not up to you to 'save' me. I don't need a savior, I didn't ask for one. I didn't even ask for a friend. And you shouldn't feel bad for not doing things nobody expected you to do. We don't need to know such things," he said as calmly as possible. It sounded confused even to himself, but he couldn't find the right words for his thoughts that kept being twisted by disturbing emotions.

"I know that you didn't," Jarlaxle admitted. "But I found myself liking you. I suppose that is why I kept you from dying. When I found you at the base of cliff, beaten, all I thought was, 'What a waste'. Not, 'He's been beaten', or 'That teaches me to put stock in a human', or even disgust." He spread his hands. "All I could think was, 'What a waste'." He looked up at Artemis' back after a moment. "I hate waste."

While Artemis somehow didn't mind that Jarlaxle said he liked him, he scowled at the following word. "Waste? And I suppose last night it would have been a waste not to sleep with me given that I was so easily at your disposal," he growled.

He knew that it wasn't true - at least not completely - but he couldn't keep himself from getting angry. Artemis had always been an angry man, and while he usually kept his anger under control it came back whenever he was scared, whenever he didn't know what to do.

"I did that to help you," Jarlaxle protested. His brows knitted together, perplexed. "I thought I was helping you." He looked away. "I've been wrong before."

Artemis wanted to hit something, just to get rid of that anger and be able to think clearly. He shouldn't be doing this, he had no right to make Jarlaxle feel bad, and yet here he was, twisting a dagger in an open wound.

The assassin suddenly took Jarlaxle's hand and squeezed it a bit. "I don't know what I'm saying. I feel like the world has stopped making sense," he said quietly, his words as close to an apology as he could get.

Jarlaxle, startled, quickly hugged him before he could think better of it. He'd wanted to, and he didn't like standing back and thinking about whether or not he should have something he wanted. He just wanted it.

He did let go and back away quickly, afraid that Artemis would be angry with him. Artemis didn't like a lot of things.

"I, ah, don't especially feel it made sense in the first place," he offered.

Artemis was surprised, but not annoyed. He thought about returning that hug, but Jarlaxle had stepped back too quickly, and Artemis had let the opportunity pass. He looked a bit embarrassed, and he was glad that Jarlaxle said something as if their conversation had never been interrupted by that gesture.

"It did, to some extent. There were rules, people were predictable, situations were controllable. Things weren't perfect, they weren't even good, but at least I knew -what- they were. I don't know anything anymore."

Jarlaxle opened his mouth, then stopped and rubbed his chin. "I suppose what makes sense is a modicum of predictability. But I'm afraid I don't have that here," he said apologetically. "I'm only used to things not making sense. That's why I do things whenever I can. I only want to take the time to seize opportunities before they don't exist. I could have left you alone, but would I ever have seen you again? I didn't want to pass up the opportunity."

Artemis gave Jarlaxle a curious look, but then he nodded. He could never live like that, and he would have condemned such a behavior in everyone else, but it seemed to work fine for Jarlaxle. One of the first things Artemis had noticed about the mercenary was that he was the perfect opportunist, and apparently not only when it came to business.

"It's not only you," Artemis said after a few moments, deciding that he needed to talk. "It's me. It's like I don't know myself anymore. I ... I don't do the things I did last night. That's not like me."

Jarlaxle grinned sheepishly, knowing he was probably bringing Artemis' wrath down on his head. "Maybe you're different now."

Artemis' eyes widened a bit, and he stepped back as if Jarlaxle had threatened him. "Nonsense," he said immediately, his voice harder now, and yet still insecure. "Why should I be different? Why should I want to be different? I function the way I was, the way I am."

Jarlaxle cringed a little bit, but he also couldn't help but laugh a little bit, too. "People change because they, er..." He rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know why I change, but I change all the time, which is the same as not changing in the first place. But anyway, you're changing because something happened to you to make you think changing was a good idea. Er... without knowing what you were thinking."

He knew that sounded bad.

"You do things without thinking all the time, right? You breathe without thinking about breathing. Maybe... part of you thought about changing, and didn't inform the other parts."

"That's stupid," Artemis said before he had even taken the time to think Jarlaxle's words through. "Nobody just changes like that. And changing isn't like breathing. I don't turn from someone sensible into a sentimental, undisciplined fool just like that," he snorted. He felt so helpless ... as if something had really happened inside him against his will. "Maybe you change. I don't. I need to be able to rely on myself."

"Maybe you haven't lost your ability to be pragmatic and disciplined and self-reliant. Have you tested this in an open environment with lots of variables? Of course not! You've only had contact with me." Jarlaxle gestured to himself. He flung his arms out, grinning. "Maybe you just like me. The only way to know for sure is to go out and judge how you react in a larger situation."

"Why, I would, if I weren't stuck in a room in the Underdark!" Artemis snapped. There it was again, the anger that followed his helplessness like a shadow. He hated himself for saying those words "I can't afford to like people and get unreasonable because of that! You should know that."

"I let myself like people, and I survive," Jarlaxle said cheerfully. "So maybe you're wrong, and your uncommunicative part of your mind realized that, thus your change." Now he was thoroughly enjoying himself, though he couldn't say why. Artemis was behaving the same way he was behaving before when it hurt Jarlaxle's feelings. He supposed he'd never know these things.

"It's one thing to like someone, and an entirely different thing not to be able to control yourself anymore." Jarlaxle's good humor made Artemis feel even more defensive. This wasn't a game, but Jarlaxle seemed to think that it was amusing. "I refuse to be like that."

"Maybe you like me a lot," Jarlaxle said, eyes twinkling. "It's been known to happen." He laughed, and added, "You can say you refuse to be that way, but you're so defensive because you are that way right now. In addition, assuming you haven't changed hasn't brought you any closer to a conclusion, so why not assume hypothetically that you have changed and proceed from there?"

"The conclusion is very simple - if I have become that way, for some reason, I just need to get a hold on myself again. It's just because I'm here, in this ridiculous situation. Things are going to be all right again once I'm back in Calimport," Artemis said, and he tried to convince himself as much as Jarlaxle - although going back to Calimport was a most depressing idea.

Jarlaxle crossed his arms. "Why does that make sense? You didn't change after you left Calimport. You changed after we had sex." He was startled by the implications of the words he had said matter-of-factly, without thinking, but he didn't show it. In point of fact, he was terrified. He was providing a salient argument to Artemis why he should never see him again. "It's more logical to assume that your change is as a result of me, and not of your leaving your homeland."

_Oh, rothe dung_, he thought, dismayed.

:"I wouldn't have agreed to have sex with you if I had been in control of myself," Artemis replied, and to Jarlaxle's relief he didn't seem to draw the conclusions Jarlaxle had expected from his words. "I wouldn't even have thought of doing this. I was confused because of Do'Urden, because my life got turned upside down. That's how I got here. That's why I agreed to be part of your plan, why I came with you, why I got even interested in you."

"Well then, you see?" Jarlaxle cried, waving his hands. "You knew the answer all along to this dilemma! Now all you have to do is figure out some way to be un-confused because of Do'Urden." He looked confused. "How do we do that?"

"Bring me back to the surface," Artemis growled. He knew it wouldn't change anything. Sure, it would bring him away from those damned drow, but it wouldn't solve any of the problems that had brought him here in the first place. "I just need to go back to my old life, to my old routine, that's all."

"But- but- a- wha?" Jarlaxle said, unable to believe his ears. He shook his head, looking at Artemis with wide eyes. "What are you saying? Things were going so well! We were walking through our thesis, getting closer and closer to the point of discovery, we were there, we saw the problem, the answer was in our hands... and you revert back to that gibberish about needing to go back to your 'old' life?" Jarlaxle raised his hands palm up. "What is this?"

"I am being reasonable! I know what I want, you are the one who is trying to convince me that I need something different. I don't! I don't need your friendship, or your pity, or whatever else you have to offer. I don't need anything I haven't had for the rest of my life. Do'Urden didn't reveal a problem, he just destroyed a life I was content with!" Artemis didn't yell, but his voice was louder and more aggressive than before.

And yet his eyes were full of helpless desperation. Artemis felt like he was going insane, like his well-ordered thoughts were suddenly running wild.

Jarlaxle's expression hardened. "I don't think you've ever been content. You told me yourself you were never happy because happiness wasn't your goal, and contentment springs from happiness. I think you're lying to me, and more importantly, to yourself."

"No, contentment is entirely different from happiness. I was never happy, and I don't mind, but I was content with what I had achieved, with who I was. You're trying to tell me that losing everything would be good for me," Artemis said, his voice almost reproachful. He tried desperately to shut out Jarlaxle's words before they could trouble him any more.

"You won't hear me," Jarlaxle said. He marched up to Artemis and stood so close their noses almost touched. "What if I told you your life had nothing worth having in it?"

"Then you would be just as stupid and blind as Do'Urden. And I had thought you knew better than him," Artemis replied coldly. He was tired of people telling him his life was empty just because he didn't want to live like them, like they wanted him to live.

"Then you wouldn't want me around, would you?" Jarlaxle said, beaming at him. He trotted over to the door, waved at him girlishly, and then left, closing the door behind him.

Artemis wanted to hold him back, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. Then he wondered if he should follow Jarlaxle, but he had still an irrational fear of that door between his room and the rest of the head quarters. Finally Artemis just sat down again on the chair, burying his face in his hands. He felt as if Jarlaxle had betrayed him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

--

Jarlaxle's head cooled down soon enough after leaving Artemis in that stuffy old room. He felt guilty for blowing up like that at Artemis- at least as much as he usually blew up.

When he was pacing in his study, a beautiful room with purple tapestries and carpets all through it, he started thinking of a plan to prove he was right.

Artemis needed to face Drizzt again.

Jarlaxle was suddenly glad that he had put off doing something about Drizzt's capture by House Baenre.

Now he had an ideal situation to put a spin on things. He, Jarlaxle, would be the valiant rescuer who knew Drizzt's father, and Drizzt would come with him. Probably half dead, but maybe not if he caught the boy at the end of a torturing cycle. He knew his family loved dearly to heal anyone up before they left for a while, so that they could be fresh the next time. Jarlaxle could swoop in, with Drizzt fully conscious, and convince him while impressionable that everything was going to be alright.

Oh, this was going to be such fun!

Then he would have Artemis prepare to fight him, and Artemis would win - of course he would! It was only a coincidence that he hadn't defeated the Do'Urden brat before. He fully agreed with Artemis on that. And then, the boy would be so distraught that he could be brought into Bregan D'aerthe, and he would only be glad he hadn't died. It was perfect.

Jarlaxle considered giving Artemis Catti-brie as a reward. He laughed. It would be ridiculous. He had captured the girl on her suicidal, merry way to rescue her beloved Drizzt, and put her in a suite just down the hall from his own chambers.

He would have loved to sleep with her, but he couldn't. It was impractical. No, she was close at hand so no one else touched her without her consent.

He sighed. He was too nice, sometimes.

It didn't bother him that Artemis thought he was a terrible monster. He knew better. Artemis was distraught, and not thinking clearly, and would someday appreciate him.

Someday soon if he rescued Drizzt now.

He whistled, went to his office, and got out the mask he'd 'borrowed' from old Gromph.

He'd go back to House Baenre with returning the mask as an excuse, act properly excited and ask to see the prisoner, and then kill anyone who happened to be his escort once he got to the room.

He hoped it would be Bladen'kerst.

That would make everything that much sweeter.

Thus happily decided, Jarlaxle went to home sweet home and prepared to cause some chaos.

Lloth apparently approved of his little scheme, because finding Gromph so give him the mask back and establish motive was laughably easy. He was coming to Matron Baenre's audience chamber, and Gromph was coming away from there.

"Gromph!" Jarlaxle spread his arms wide, a great grin gracing his face. "I think Lloth smiles on us this day. I was coming to see you. Your mask, my dear Archmage." He waved the mask playfully in front of Gromph's face.

The Archmage looked even more bad-humored than usual - he had been talking to his mother, after all - and when he caught sight of Jarlaxle the perpetual scowl on his young features deepened even more. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he stopped almost reluctantly.

His eyes were filled with hatred and contempt when he stared at the mercenary. "About time," Gromph growled and snatched the mask out of Jarlaxle's hand in one quick gesture. It disappeared in one of the countless pockets of his heavy robes. He refrained from a derisive comment about Lolth - even he couldn't afford it when he was 'home'.

"I am never too busy for you," Jarlaxle said, sweeping down into a low bow. He resisted the urge to laugh. He didn't know why Gromph didn't like him, except that he had the sort of wit and charm that was actually attractive, instead of being some sour, withered old man who masqueraded under the guise of youthfulness.

He straightened and put his hat back on his head. "How fares our mother?"

Gromph snorted, not bothering to complain that Jarlaxle had taken so long to return the mask - that would have meant that he actually -needed- it. He frowned when Jarlaxle so openly called Matron Baenre 'our mother', but he decided to ignore it, knowing that the soldiers around them probably hadn't heard it anyway.

"Fortunately she is perfectly healthy and feeling well," Gromph replied in a cold, smooth voice, but the sarcasm was obvious. "But you will see that for yourself." A cruel smirk appeared on Gromph's beautiful lips for a second; and even after all these centuries it was still a startling contrast. He knew that Jarlaxle hated facing Matron Baenre, maybe even more than everyone else did.

Jarlaxle stared at him for a moment, and his smile was definitely cool. "I am glad to hear that. Females Matron Baenre's age and stature are rare, and getting rarer all the while. I sincerely hope that nothing befalls her, and I wish her no ill will whatsoever."

"Of course not," Gromph said, his red eyes still boring into Jarlaxle's. The Archmage didn't even bother to hide how much he would like to kill that annoying little mercenary in the most painful possibly way. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Jarlaxle?" he asked, but those words that should have been obliging sounded only derisive.

Jarlaxle suddenly beamed in response. "Ooh, yes. I've been looking for a new recipe for mushroom pastries. Could you divine that for me and ask a lower level demon or something?"

Anger flashed through Gromph's eyes and he hissed back, "I am sure even the incompetent idiots who work for you could find that out." He snorted again and gave Jarlaxle an almost disgusted look before he walked past him.

"Don't act like you have anything better to do," Jarlaxle called after him, radiating hurt innocence. "It's rude. I know you mostly sit in that tower and doze, anyway."

"Maybe I can afford to do that because I am as efficient in one hour as you are in ten," Gromph replied without stopping or even looking back at Jarlaxle. He was almost out of earshot anyway, and despite his reply he definitely had better things to do than banter with that cocky little brother of his.

Jarlaxle sighed and gave one of the nearest soldiers guarding the hallway a pitiful look. "Now I'll never get my recipe."

Then he grinned, twirling the feather in his hat, and marched jauntily to the throne room.

The withered old crone formerly known as his mother was sitting on the throne, impressing upon him the image of an old gnome sitting in front of an enormous pile of jewels. Beside her, displaying demure qualities they didn't have, were Triel and Vendes.

He swept into an exaggeratedly low bow, bending over his knee and resting his hat on the floor. "My dear matron," he murmured, mostly hiding his face. "How it does me good to see a smile on your face."

He waited to be told to get back up.

"It pleases me to see a smile on your face as well," Matron Baenre said, fixing him with those beady, sunken eyes.

He quickly got back up, a nervous laugh bubbling up in spite of himself. "Ah, yes. Thank you."

"I didn't summon you," Matron Baenre said. She was both blunt and mild.

"Er...no..." Jarlaxle said. "That is, I heard about your most recent prisoner."

"Which one?" Matron Baenre asked.

Jarlaxle swallowed. His throat was dry. Gromph was one thing. His mother was another beast completely.

"Your most important one, naturally. I would never disturb your peace over a trivial matter. I wish to extend my congratulations."

"Thank you."

She waited.

He stared.

She lazily gestured at him.

He let out an internal sigh of relief and approached.

"When is the ceremony?" Jarlaxle asked, smiling brightly.

"Soon... soon..." Matron Baenre nodded and gave him a crocodile's smile.

"But..." Her eyes turned to her daughters. "Haven't you forgotten to pay your respects to your sisters?"

Jarlaxle flinched and immediately bowed. She heard his stunt in the hall. She always heard. "I am deeply sorry. I was not myself."

The Matron turned to her daughters, smiling indulgently. "What do you say?"

Triel gave Jarlaxle a derisive look that resembled curiously Gromph's. She really didn't care and glanced at her younger sister to show her that she could answer. Vendes didn't look as if she knew what exactly they were talking about, but her eyes gleamed in anticipation. "Being sorry won't improve his behavior ... punishment will," she said, but remembered to give a small bow to her mother.

Matron Baenre looked at him with a gently disapproving shake of her head. "You heard her."

Jarlaxle straightened, frustrated and bewildered. He looked at his mother and at his sisters helplessly.

He didn't know what he was expected to do. What he wanted to do was just get out of here before she tore strips out of him, but he knew that wasn't one of the options.

"Well?" Matron Baenre prompted. Amusement flitted across her withered face and was gone. "You pride yourself on negotiation, mercenary. Negotiate."

Jarlaxle hated her. That he was suddenly sure of.

He kept a smile on his face until his cheeks hurt.

His eyes flickered over to Vendes. "I am truly sorry. Never again will I disgrace your name." He bowed.

When he rose, he saw Matron Baenre shaking her head. "Weak," she commented. She nodded to Vendes. "What do you think, daughter?"

"I think he needs a few scars to remember his words," Vendes replied and glared wickedly at Jarlaxle before she looked again at her mother, perfectly respectful of course.

Matron Baenre looked frankly agreeable. Jarlaxle felt his stomach churning. "I think she's right, Jarlaxle," she said to him, almost as an aside.

Jarlaxle's mind worked furiously. He bowed to her and hoped he could still walk after this was over. He needed to wait them out long enough to ask to see Drizzt if he was ever going to rescue the boy.

"In all due respect, Matron, your word means so much to me. If you think that is the necessary action, I have no choice but to agree with you."

"You always have a choice," Matron Baenre said, giving him a puzzled, almost disappointed look. She could fake that perfectly cold, blank look so well it froze Jarlaxle's heart.

He could feel the blood drain from his face.

Are they going to make me say it? A spark of anger flashed quickly in his chest before it died, snuffed by the tightness of the fear locking him in place.

While Triel continued to look rather bored - she could really think of more interesting things than watch her mother and sister torture Jarlaxle - Vendes seemed almost a bit worried now. Matron Baenre wasn't giving Jarlaxle a chance to get out of this, now was she? Still, she stayed silent and just waited.

"You can choose to disrespect your sister, or you can choose to take your punishment and make it a constructive learning experience," Matron Baenre continued after her shamelessly contrived pause.

Jarlaxle's hands trembled. He suddenly, quite literally, wanted to lunge for her and kill her.

His eyes shone very bright for a moment, and then the reaction subsided to the safe place, where all of his reactions resided.

"I will choose the right thing to do," Jarlaxle said, his voice marvelously calm. "Of course."

A triumphant smirk briefly crossed Matron Baenre's face. "That quality of yours has always made you my favorite mercenary," she said. She reached out and caressed the back of his head with one clawed, age-softened hand before he could rise.

He couldn't suppress the shudder that ran down his back.

The Matron turned to Vendes and nodded. "Make yourself happy. This is for you, to make up for the wrongdoings done to you. You should stop when you are satisfied."

Jarlaxle froze as he was putting his hat back on his head.

His vision tunneled.

Vendes bowed a bit to her mother and said almost happily, "Thank you, Matron Mother." She nodded curtly to a still annoyed looking Triel before she smiled cruelly at Jarlaxle, gesturing for him to follow her when she left the audience room. Her eyes had that insane gleam, and she was probably already trying to think of the wonderful things she would do to him.

Jarlaxle started following her with a jerk, as if he were a puppet pulled along on an invisible string. He automatically put his hat on, but it was crooked, and he didn't have the steadiness of hand to fix it.

He was fighting with different parts of his mind. Some parts shouted to finish her off now, disintegrate her with acid or something and then impersonate her with the magical mask. But anyone he asked would wonder why Vendes didn't know where her own prisoner was, and if he wandered everywhere, they would notice that too. He didn't even get a chance to ask to look at the prisoner before his Matron and his sisters decided they were going to beat him.

He would have to get the information out of Vendes somehow, and that meant not killing her.

Vendes didn't even look back, knowing that even Jarlaxle would have the common sense to follow her. She went to the basement of the complex and to her personal torture chambers. She walked past a few locked cells - in one of which Drizzt was maybe, probably even - before she grabbed Jarlaxle's shoulder roughly and pushed him into an empty cell.

He thought - hoped, rather - that she was just going to beat him or something.

His hopes disintegrated the same way his dummy Vendes had in his acid scenario.

His hand reached involuntarily for the wand at his side.

He'd lost his balance almost completely at the force of that rough push, and this was Vendes being gentle.

But I can't just open up every cell in this whole dungeon, a thought rose to the top of Jarlaxle's head rebelliously. That is ridiculous.

The question was only if being Vendes' toy for a few hours, a day, or even longer if she was in the mood, was any better. Vendes looked almost thoughtful for a few moments, musing how she should start, but then she gave Jarlaxle an irritated look. "Take you clothes and jewelry off," she ordered, and she sounded annoyed as if this was completely obvious, as if she had expected Jarlaxle to do this without even being asked to.

:

Jarlaxle gave her a surprised look, and then laughed. "I'm not playing for an audience any more, sister dear. I'm not going to strip in front of you." He wrinkled his nose. "That's repulsive. Have a little...decency." He wrapped his arms around himself and looked offended.

Vendes blinked in surprise, and for a moment she didn't move. But then she lunged forward, the snake whip suddenly in her hand, preparing to strike at his face. "How dare you!" she snarled.

Jarlaxle stepped out of the way, turned neatly, and grabbed her hair. "You're a bully." His arm was around her neck in a hold. "Have I ever told you that? I always thought that."

Vendes hissed angrily, more like a lizard than like a drow. She struggled in Jarlaxle's hold, and while she couldn't really beat him in this unfortunate position one of the snake heads reached Jarlaxle's side and bit him.

Jarlaxle winced. "Ah." He threw her to the floor, pinned her there, and stomped on her hand. Then he kicked her whip away. "And I hate snakes."

She made another inarticulate noise, and in her fury she hardly seemed to notice the pain in her hand. She kept squirming and tried to grab her whip again.

"Well? Are you going to respond to my accusations, or are you going to wiggle?"

Jarlaxle planted his knee firmly in her back to illustrate his point, and grabbed her hand.

"Filthy male!" Vendes spat. "You are going to regret this. I'm going to skin you and pour acid on your flesh!"

"You're not really alive, are you?" Jarlaxle said sadly. "You're a shell that demons talk through." He beamed. "Well, no sense in talking to a shell." He whipped out a handy dagger from his belt, more of a stiletto, really, and stabbed the back of her neck, killing her instantly.

He got up and wiped his dagger off.

"Pity." Jarlaxle sighed and shook his head. "Now I'll have to search these cells one by one. That will give a lot of people false hope."

He glanced back at her, once, as if not quite comprehending the cooling form that used to be his sister, and shut the door behind him. He started to look around the corridor, and then shrugged. "What the hell? Why don't I just rescue them all and make them a part of Bregan D'aerthe?"

He grinned to himself and whistled as he started knocking on doors.

Drizzt Do'Urden was in the last cell he searched. Of course, he understood this had to be so in a technical sense, because after Drizzt was found he would stop looking, but that didn't prevent it from being the last cell he hadn't searched in his mission for Do'Urden.

Jarlaxle walked up to the broken body hanging from the wall cautiously. It wasn't beyond Vendes to drive people insane, and he had no way of knowing what sorts of diseases he'd catch if the Do'Urden boy bit him.

The boy's clothes were in rags, his wrists were scraped almost to the bone by the sharp manacles and the impetuous fighter's struggle, and one eye was swollen shut.

Jarlaxle's eyes lit up. Luckily, sitting there on a pedestal was a healing potion, sparkling with internal magic. _It must be a strong one, too!_ he thought.

Of course, it was plainly out of reach for Do'Urden, but that was to be expected.

Jarlaxle walked up and timidly tapped Drizzt on the chest. "Boy? Are you awake?"

Not the best of openers, but he had to start somewhere.

A shudder ran through Drizzt's whole body at the touch, and he looked up with one eye. He wasn't fully conscious, and his face showed no clear thought, no feeling other than pain and fear. He didn't even seem to notice how strange the drow in front of him looked.

Jarlaxle smiled. "Oh, good! Then you can drink this healing potion." He held up the bottle, uncorked it, and put it to Do'Urden's lips.

The younger drow flinched again, but he was too weak to struggle, although he knew that a healing potion only meant that the torture would start again.

"Rest easy," Jarlaxle said. "I'll have you out of those handcuffs in a moment. I only need you to stay where you are so that I don't have to hold you upright right now." He laid a hand on Drizzt's waist reassuringly. "I knew your father."

As the pain in his body lessened suspiciousness returned into Drizzt's eyes. He tried to evade the touch on his waist, and the mention of his father scared him even more. The Baenre Weapon Master had said he had known his father as well, or at least heard of him, so these words hardly reassured Drizzt.

Jarlaxle removed his hand and reached up to unlock the manacles with a key that looked as though it were made from someone's finger bone.

He released one, and wrapped an arm around the boy's waist when he unlocked the other so that Drizzt wouldn't fall. "There we are." He put the key away.

Drizzt slumped into Jarlaxle's arms, too weak to stand on his own. He hadn't stood or walked for days, and the fear took away his usual determination. But even now he was stubborn enough to try and push away this stranger.

Jarlaxle looked at him incredulously for a moment and then laughed. "You are remarkable," he said. "You haven't stood for days, and yet still you want to try to walk on your own. You are remarkably stubborn, just as Zaknafein said." He smiled admiringly. "He was so proud of you, you know. It's always been his way to speak the good things when the object of his praise is never around, but he was wild about you, Drizzt. He wouldn't want to talk of anything else!" He let out another laugh.

Now Drizzt gave him a curious look. He had never heard a drow laugh, with the exception of Zaknafein. And none of those Baenres had used his first name in the last days ... Drizzt struggled to stay on his feet, but when he stopped concentrating on his body to think about what he had just heard he almost fell again.

"You know nothing about Zaknafein!" Drizzt snapped suddenly. His voice was hoarse and sounded strange to his own ears; he hadn't drunk anything but this healing potion for ... at least one day, maybe longer, he didn't know. He just knew that this stranger had to be lying. This had to be another trick, another way to torture him.

Jarlaxle gave him a pitying look and handed him the water canteen at his side. "I know I don't know the things a son would know of their father. I never had one. He was tortured to death before I was born."

Drizzt looked confused now, but he still took the canteen and began to drink. He was too thirsty to care if it was poisoned, and to his surprise it only made him feel better. He managed to keep his balance now and made a few steps backward. "What do you want? Why did they send you?" he asked, his hands clutching the canteen as if it was a weapon.

Jarlaxle smiled and nodded to the canteen in his hands. "I know it's empty, but could I have it back? I'm afraid you'll throw it at my head. I want to take you out of here, and they didn't. In fact, Vendes, the charming Duk-Tak, took me down here herself to torture me for not bowing to her in the throne room." He waved a hand. "But none of that matters. You're coming with me, and will be reunited with your companions soon enough."

He was a bit loose with the word companions, but surely someone as constant and faithful an enemy as Artemis Entreri counted as a companion? And anyway, he knew at least the lovely young lady would love to see her friend again.

"This is only a new game," Drizzt said and shook his head, but there was a little flicker of hope in his eyes. The very idea of seeing his friends again gave him new strength ... and yet he knew that his captors were only playing with him.

Jarlaxle reached for his hand. "Do you want to see her? She is lying face down in a cell down the hall. I killed her. Maybe that sight enough will reassure you to the truthfulness of what I am saying."

Drizzt didn't seem to believe him, but what would he lose? Still holding the canteen in his other hand he shrugged, prepared to follow him.

Jarlaxle held him by the hand and led him down the hallway to the cell. Its door was still closed, and Jarlaxle sensed it had been undisturbed. He opened the cell door and escorted Drizzt inside. "There, you see?" he said softly.

Drizzt followed him hesitantly, but his eyes widened when he saw the corpse on the ground. He walked over and turned the body to see her face, and when he recognized Vendes he sighed in relief. He straightened up again and said in a softer voice, "I don't understand."

"It's over," Jarlaxle said. He opened his arms, offering an embrace. "It's over. You can leave this place."

Drizzt made another step backwards, feeling more threatened by this gesture. "But ... the other priestesses, and the soldiers, and ... we can't just walk out of here, and out of the city."

Jarlaxle grinned at him. "Not out of this city, no. That will have to wait until later. But as for this House... we can." He gave him a wink. "I have magic."

The young drow's eyes were still filled with confusion. He didn't know what to think of this strangely dressed drow who just walked in and saved him. Drow didn't just help others. But his chances of survival were definitely better if he got out of the house. He gave Jarlaxle a defiant look, as if he had really any choice in this, and nodded.

Jarlaxle wrapped an arm around him. "That's the spirit. Use me for what you need me for, and worry about fighting me later." He clapped a hand on Drizzt's back reassuringly, and then in an instant they were gone.

They reappeared in the austere confines of Jarlaxle's office.

Drizzt just wanted to answer when the teleportation spell began. When he found himself in this office he looked around, taken aback, but he quickly glared at Jarlaxle again. It looked somehow pathetic, given the state he was in. "I want an explanation," he demanded. He wasn't going to thank him as long as he didn't know his motives.

"I found out you were in town, and I didn't know what to do," Jarlaxle said, playing with his fingers nervously. "I thought: Why is he back? His father told him to run as far away as possible. He has no kinsmen here. House Do'Urden is destroyed. He hasn't been here in years. Then House Baenre captured you, and I suppose I knew they would, and I didn't know if I should do anything about that either." He sighed. "Then your lovely lady came along, and made things harder and easier at the same time. She claimed a mission to rescue you, and I told her it was suicide, and things have lain that way ever since, until today. Today, I decided, why not? I'll rescue him and reunite him with his lady love, and see what I can do about my broken reputation then."

He didn't know if he should mention Artemis, but he thought not.

Drizzt's eyes widened even more. He wanted to ask so many questions at the same time, he didn't know where to start. "Lady? Do you mean ... Catti-Brie? She is here? But why? And what do you know about my father? Who _are_ you?" Drizzt was so worried and excited that he even forgot his haughty stubbornness; he acted more like a curious child now.

"Jarlaxle," the mercenary leader said simply. He looked surprised. "I know we never met, but when I mentioned those things about your father, and you, I thought surely you would put it together that I..." He searched Drizzt's confused face and came to a crushing realization that made him feel like his office was tumbling down around him. "...was the friend your father spoke of. He...never spoke of me. Did he."

"No. My father didn't have a friend, he was alone until he had me," Drizzt said sadly and at the same time reproachfully. He wanted to know more, but first he needed to know if his friend was safe. "Where is Catti-Brie?"

"Alone?" He wanted to cry when he heard those words spoken in such matter-of-fact naivete from Drizzt's mouth. He covered it up quickly enough, he hoped, but he was still badly shaken. "She's in a suite down the hall. I suppose I should reunite you two. I apologize for the lapse in judgement. You wouldn't want to hear me talk about it anyway. I'm just some old drow you don't know." How those words stung!

He wanted to go to the washroom and splash cold water on his face.

He mechanically went over to the door and opened it. "Come with me."

"Wait," Drizzt said and walked towards Jarlaxle, but he stopped insecurely. "I want to see her, yes, but ... I also want to know the truth about you and my father. You have to tell me. Later maybe"

"The truth is that we were friends. Most trusted friends in a society where we weren't supposed to have any." Jarlaxle looked at him with a mixture of anger and pain. "It's that simple. There's no other truth to tell." He turned and gestured at the hallway. "Now come with me."

He started walking down the hallway, hoping to force the boy into following him.

Drizzt was dumbfounded. He didn't know what to believe. Jarlaxle didn't seem to be lying, but Zaknafein would have mentioned a friend if he had had one! Drizzt was sure about that ... he -knew- his father. Still, he quickly followed Jarlaxle, too worried about Catti-Brie to hold him back again.

Jarlaxle approached with caution as he got closer to the room. He knocked on the door a trifle more timidly than he would have liked to in his own mercenary headquarters. "Are your accommodations acceptable, my dear?"

A voice yelled back from the other side that Drizzt found savage and quite endearing. "No, they is not 'acceptable'! Ye get in here right now an tell me why Drizzt ain't on his way! Ye promised to bring him back! Or are ye a lyin yellow bellied sneak cur like all them other drow?"

Jarlaxle glared at Drizzt as if this outburst were his fault and then answered back in deferential, honey meek tones. "I was not lying, I promise. Now, no throwing things when I open the door this time. That makes me very angry. I have Drizzt right here. He wants to see you."

"Drizzt?" the familiar voice on the other side of the door shrieked.

Drizzt hardly waited for Jarlaxle to finish talking. He pushed the door open and stepped in, all thoughts about his father suddenly forgotten when he saw his dear friend again. He virtually ran towards her to pull her in his arms. "Catti-Brie! I was so worried when he said you were here."

She collided with him at the rate of a boulder from a catapult squashing an unsuspecting orc. She barreled him over. "Oh, Drizzt!" She started kissing his face and crying. "Why did ye leave?"

Jarlaxle stared down at them. "How do you get tears from her, when all I get is temper tantrums and broken furniture?"

"Some men got it, and some men don't," she said flatly, giving him a hard stare before going back to feeling every inch of Drizzt to make sure he was alright.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you two," Jarlaxle said, closing the door.

* * *

A/N: I apologize most heartily for the typo, it has been removed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

--

Jarlaxle didn't like to think he was fleeing the scene with Drizzt and Catti-brie, but he was realistic enough to know that's what he was doing.

The mercenary wanted to run away before Drizzt said anything else about Zaknafein that hurt.

He'd thought he and Zaknafein were -friends-. Real friends, not lip-service allies. They had grown apart - they were both grown males! They had their own lives... - but Jarlaxle thought that their bonds mattered for something.

The sting and the startled reaction he had instantly reminded him of Artemis. He'd just left him there! That wasn't what friends did! Friends, no matter how angry they might become...

Jarlaxle had to remind himself to smile as he walked down the hallway. He couldn't let his soldiers see him upset.

And the notion of starving him? Monstrous! He would never do such a thing to Zaknafein, and Zaknafein would never do the same thing to him.

He was at least as good a friend with Artemis as he was with Zaknafein, he reasoned. _Especially since Zaknafein betrayed me._

He shut his eyes for a moment. _Zaknafein didn't betray me! He wouldn't do that! He wouldn't dare!_

Jarlaxle passed a hand over his bald head. "I...Maybe he forgot."

He didn't realize until one of his men looked at him that he'd spoken out loud.

He grinned at him and continued down the hall without an explanation.

While the mercenary was thinking about his behavior with Artemis, Jarlaxle also realized other things. He'd been rude to Entreri. Terribly rude. And he'd been mocking. The man was right. He wasn't the sole or ultimate judge of his behavior. He had been mocking Artemis simply because he had seen someone different.

By the time Jarlaxle knocked on Artemis Entreri's door, he was feeling thoroughly repentant, and he hoped that Artemis would forgive him.

Artemis had been thinking much since Jarlaxle had left, at least once he had managed to pull himself together again after his angry outburst. He knew he had overreacted to Jarlaxle's words, to his try - however misplaced - to help him. He didn't know how to act towards the confusing mercenary anymore. Jarlaxle made Artemis want to kiss him, and to hit him only a minute later.

He flinched when he heard a knock, not sure whether he was ready to face Jarlaxle again. Artemis sighed and got up from his bed. "Come in," he called, his voice even.

Jarlaxle entered quickly and shut the door behind him. He just stood there for a moment. He wouldn't be able to stand it if both his friends hated him. He searched Artemis' eyes for any hint of hostility towards him. The mercenary didn't find any.

"Artemis, I'm sorry," he said after taking a deep breath.

Artemis was speechless for a moment. He didn't know what he had expected, but definitely not a simple apology. But as this was Jarlaxle, Artemis couldn't help but wonder if the drow's words were really as simple as they seemed to be.

Without any real suspiciousness in his voice he asked almost softly, "For what exactly?"

Jarlaxle said, "For trying to tell you who you were instead of listening to who you are when I told you my decisions. I shouldn't try to tell a man he's changed if I want him to change. I shouldn't make fun of you for wanting to be who you are, and not who I want you to be or hope you want to be for me. I'm not here to imprison you or to tell you to change. I'm not here to mock you for being different than I am. I'm here because I hope you're my friend, and I don't want you to hate me."

Artemis hesitated. He didn't think anyone had ever apologized to him like that, so honestly, so repentant. And somehow even his suspiciousness, usually so strong, remained silent when he looked Jarlaxle in the eyes. Finally Artemis nodded. He was trying to think of an appropriate reply, but he didn't know how to reply to an apology.

"I do not hate you," he said simply. His eyes found Jarlaxle's for a second before he looked away.

Jarlaxle ran to him and wrapped his arms around him. "I don't hate you either. I'm sorry when I seem to be trying to obliterate you. The things I see sometimes make me blind. I wasn't seeing what I should have. My words about change hurt you."

"Yes, they did ... That's why I ... said what I said," Artemis said insecurely, hoping that he sounded sorry, because he felt sorry. After tensing up for a moment he laid his arms around Jarlaxle, and he even allowed himself to close his eyes for a few moments.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tested you like that. You were right to make me leave," Jarlaxle said. "I was speaking nonsense." He stroked Artemis' hair. "The reason I was away was because I was preparing to prove to you that I do care. You need to prove to yourself again that you are worthy to be who you are. Until then, you're not going to feel any better. You have to reassure yourself you are the same - and you are, you are. I know how we can prove it."

Artemis' hands slowly moved to Jarlaxle's shoulders to bring some distance between them and look him in the eyes, but his touch wasn't rough. "Prove it?" he repeated confusedly. "I do not know what you mean."

"You need to prove it? Am I right? You won't be distraught if you can prove that you possess the same prowess, the same -ability-, that you always have?" Jarlaxle asked, suddenly doubting his own assessment.

Artemis had still no idea what Jarlaxle was planning to do. "I ... I think so ... But I already know that I ... lost it." The last word was only a whisper, and Artemis looked down in what seemed to be shame.

Jarlaxle kissed him. "I have faith in you. I know it's still there." He stroked Artemis' cheek. "I want you to see it before you give up."

Artemis didn't return the kiss, and yet Jarlaxle's caresses didn't make him uncomfortable. "I would have died if you hadn't saved me. Is that not proof enough that I lost my worth?"

Jarlaxle gave him a hurt look. "Accidents happen. It doesn't mean you haven't got your edge."

Artemis looked at him again, and he seemed almost guilty now. "If I lost once, it can happen again," he sighed and shook his head. But then he pulled himself together and asked more calmly, "What is it you are preparing?"

Jarlaxle stiffened in preparation for a beating. "Drizzt, for some undeterminable reason, came to Menzoberranzan on his own and was captured. I rescued him about fifteen minutes ago."

Artemis' eyes widened, and within seconds his expression changed from surprise to hatred to fear to hesitation. "What do you ..." he started, but he already knew the answer to that question. "You want me to fight him again."

"You have to fight him again!" Jarlaxle said, waving his hands and balling them into fists earnestly. "It's the only way to regain what you've lost - if you have lost it," he added hastily. "Try again until you succeed. I know you can succeed. Do'Urden is not invincible. I saw your fight. You were deadlocked! Even! That means a chance! A chance to prove that your introspection, your thinking here, has advanced you beyond Do'Urden's borders. Upon meeting him personally I find him exceptionally simple minded. Surely you can win against him."

Artemis backed off as if Jarlaxle had threatened him. One part of him - the strong, determined man he had been before his defeat - wanted to fight Drizzt again, to prove that his self-discipline was worth something. But to his own shame, Artemis was _scared_. Scared of destroying what was left of his self-esteem.

"Surely I can lose again! Of course he is simple minded, he is unbearable, but he knows how to fight. I can't live through another defeat," he said. His voice was trembling, and his eyes were almost begging Jarlaxle for some understanding.

Jarlaxle hesitated. "I - I know..."

"I can't do this," Artemis whispered. "I can't give him the satisfaction of seeing me like this."

Jarlaxle snorted. "Believe me, he won't notice. He never noticed any of the wonderful things about you. He's got his head up his skinny little arse. As long as you act confident - and I know you can - he doesn't have to suspect a thing. I certainly won't tell him of your doubts."

Artemis nervously ran a hand through his hair. "I'm a good actor, but I can't lie to myself. If I -am- not confident I won't stand a chance."

Jarlaxle asked hopefully, "Can I make you confident? What about fighting me? If you can fight me and win surely you can tackle Do'Urden. Even an empty headed dolt like Drizzt knows not to mess with me."

Artemis didn't look convinced. He had never seen Jarlaxle in a fight, and while he didn't doubt the mercenary's prowess he didn't see him as a normal sword fighter. "You would let me win on purpose to give me my confidence back," he sighed, not even reproachfully. "I still can't believe I lost once again this weakling. It shouldn't have happened."

Jarlaxle laughed. "I might be tempted, but I wouldn't send you into a real battle with fake confidence. I'm not that cruel. I want you to win. If you went in with fake confidence, you'd lose. Then I'd lose, because you'd kill yourself, and I'd be out of good friends."

Artemis looked at Jarlaxle, thoughtfully. Was there any alternative? What would his life be like if he ran away now? For once in his life he was granted a second chance, a possibility to fix a mistake he had made. "Do you really think my defeat was an accident?" he asked softly, more to himself than to Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle snorted. "I am as positive about that as I am about my success in my business ventures. Drizzt Do'Urden may have gotten lucky, but he won't be lucky today. No, his luck has run out, and so too will his life-blood when you pierce his foolish heart. Or femural artery. Or whatever method you wish to use to dispose of the brat. He's amazingly irritating. Did you know that? Of course you did. Well, now I know it too."

A grim smile made it to Artemis' face, and he started to look intrigued. "He is, isn't he?" he said and shook his head. "He's an open insult to every sensible person with some self-esteem."

Artemis suddenly grabbed Jarlaxle's wrist and pulled him close. The short moment of anticipation had given way to doubt again. "If I fail," he whispered, "I want you to let me die." There was fear in his eyes - but now it wasn't fear of another defeat, but of Jarlaxle refusing him his wish ... fear of another betrayal.

"Oh, alright," Jarlaxle sighed. "I'll let you die. I'd be more of a bastard than I already am if I refused my friend something he truly wanted. I'll let you kill yourself if worse comes to worst." He averted his eyes, feeling like a bastard for even agreeing. He should be telling Artemis not worry.

Of course, Artemis couldn't know if Jarlaxle would really do this, but somehow he believed him. His grip on Jarlaxle's wrist softened, turned into a caress when he ran his fingers over the drow's hand. Artemis' other hand cupped Jarlaxle's chin to make him look at him.

"Thank you," Artemis whispered. He took a deep breath and added, "I'll do my best to avoid that situation."

Jarlaxle believed him. He didn't know why, given his friend's less than positive behavior during his stay here, but he believed him. He stared into Artemis' eyes. He was transfixed by the emotion he saw there. He didn't know what it was.

If Artemis had been asked he probably wouldn't have been able to say what exactly he was feeling right now. Somehow Jarlaxle's presence made him calm down ... made him more confident. His old self, the Artemis he wanted to be again, gradually managed to fight down his fear. The usual calm slowly returned to his features.

"I'll...I'll get you some dinner. You must be hungry," Jarlaxle said. "After you eat, why don't we spar? If you can beat me in a sparring match, I know you'll be ready to take on that Do'Urden."

"I'm not sure I want to spar with you," Artemis said. He didn't even know why he was so reluctant, but he refused to question his feeling right now. He didn't even realize that his hand was still on Jarlaxle's. "I'd rather get some rest. When do you ... when should I fight him?"

"As soon as you can," Jarlaxle said. "If you need rest, take rest. If you need training, train yourself." He smiled. "Oh, and, I thought you might want this." He lifted off his hat, reached inside it, and came out with Entreri's sparkling, gem-studded dagger.

At first Artemis just nodded, but his eyes widened in surprise when Jarlaxle pulled out his dagger. He took the weapon almost tenderly, fingers caressing the hilt before they tightened around it. A hard little smile appeared on his lips, and his dagger alone seemed to give him more confidence than anything Jarlaxle had said to him.

"I would also need a sword," Artemis said after a few moments, but now he almost seemed to be looking forward to the fight.

Jarlaxle laughed. "You will have your sword. I could enchant a sword to draw off of the same powers as your dagger. It would inextricably link the two, binding the power of the dagger to the sword and making them partner weapons forever." He shrugged. "Or I can just give you an ordinary sword."

Artemis' eyes sparkled a little bit - he wouldn't admit it, of course, but he did have a passion for beautiful, powerful weapons. "That sounds intriguing, but ... what would happen if I lost one weapon?" he asked carefully, never one to forget a contingency.

"Hmm?" Jarlaxle scratched his eyebrow for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He'd gotten momentarily distracted by the reaction Entreri had to his dagger. "Why, if you lose the dagger, the sword would no longer share its power, because the dagger is the parent weapon. However, losing the sword will have no effect upon the dagger."

Artemis' eyes were still gleaming a little bit. "All right," he said. "I suppose you will need the dagger back." He ran one finger over the blade before he handed the dagger back to Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle was about to say that he could keep it, he could simply visit the mage with him, when he was struck by how much of a gesture of trust it was to give back an item that obviously meant so much to him. He closed his hand around it and looked at him for a moment. He was touched. "Thank you. I mean...I'll bring it back to you soon." Jarlaxle felt himself flush a little in embarrassment at having said something so out of context. _Thank you? Where did that come from?_

Artems looked confused as well. "I should thank you. For the sword," he said after a few moments of silence. It embarrassed him, but he wanted to touch Jarlaxle again. Deciding that it wouldn't be appropriate he averted his eyes again.

Jarlaxle slipped the dagger back into his hat. "Oh, the sword is nothing," he said carelessly, grinning at the assassin. "I have a million swords. I have only one Artemis Entreri. Friend. That is. One friend. I...is it warmer in here?" He felt his cheek self consciously.

"I think so," Artemis replied, trying to convince himself that it might really be warmer in here if Jarlaxle thought that, too.

Jarlaxle looked puzzled. "But... why?" He rubbed his chin. "Perhaps an air current from the southern caves?"

He took off his hat and fanned himself with it.

Artemis shrugged. "I have no idea; I don't know much about the Underdark," he said as evenly as possible. "Or maybe we've just got worked up because of that annoying Do'Urden."

"I agree!" Jarlaxle said enthusiastically. "This has to be Drizzt's fault." He grinned. It felt good to say such a thing, after Drizzt had dared to suggest that he and Zaknafein were not good friends. What did a boy know, anyway? Zaknafein had probably neglected to tell Drizzt because the annoying prodigy would ask his father why he was friends with such an unsavory character.

He rubbed the back of his neck. What he wanted most right now was a swim in one of his bathing pools. But he hated to bathe alone...He could use a public bathing pool in the headquarters, or... "Would you care for a bath? I was planning on bathing anyway, and I have a private bathing pool as part of my suite here. It would be relaxing. Afterwards, you could rest, and start preparations for the battle tomorrow."

Artemis looked surprised, and he hesitated. He had never taken a bath with anyone before ... It seemed to be something extremely intimate ... but he had wanted to touch Jarlaxle almost since the drow had come in and apologized, and he wasn't going to miss that opportunity now.

The assassin couldn't bring himself to say something, he just nodded curtly.

Jarlaxle beamed. "Great. Let's go." He paused, and his smile softened. "If you don't want to face my men, we can teleport there directly. I don't mind."

Artemis hadn't expected Jarlaxle to be so considerate, and it made him smile a little bit - although the smile was only visible in his eyes, not on his lips. "All right."

Jarlaxle held out his hand. "I need physical contact."

Artemis took Jarlaxle's hand and squeezed it softly.

Jarlaxle said, "Here we go."

That was his only warning when the room flickered, disappeared in darkness, and reappeared.

Only now it was a different room.

Jarlaxle let go of Artemis' hand and started undressing with a sigh of relief.

The room was enormous, a vast, echoing chamber with tiled floors and an uneven, natural pool taking up most of the space. They were standing in a corner with a couple of low benches. This area was framed by two long dressers. Jarlaxle opened one of the compartments and got out a towel woven from soft plant fibers.

He folded his clothing neatly on the bench, and then tossed his hat, eye patch, and boots.

He turned to Artemis to explain. "This is the most heavily guarded chamber in the entirety of my headquarters. No magic, or psionic attacks, can come through this chamber."

Artemis looked a bit disoriented at first - he would never grow as used to teleportation as Jarlaxle seemed to be. He had to keep himself from staring at Jarlaxle when the drow undressed. Feeling halfway safe after Jarlaxle's words he started to undress himself, more slowly. Still, he couldn't feel entirely comfortable, and the insecurity was plainly visible on his face.

Jarlaxle was concerned by that look. "It is safe. I promise. If it were not, I would have been dead long ago."

He gestured around the room. "This is my haven. If I really want privacy, I come here."

Artemis nodded without looking at Jarlaxle. He dropped his shirt on one of the benches and took off his boots. But although he believed Jarlaxle, the muscles in his arms were tensed up as if he expected an attack when he unbuttoned his breeches and quickly took them off before he could change his mind.

Jarlaxle gave him an almost shy, sly look. "Race you."

Artemis stared at him as if he had no idea what Jarlaxle was talking about.

Jarlaxle nodded his head. "To the pool. It'll be fun." His eyes sparkled.

"You could use a little fun."

"I doubt I would think it's ... 'fun'," Artemis replied. He had already enough things to worry about right now than try somehow to have 'fun'.

Jarlaxle came over, seeming not to notice he was naked, and gave Artemis a kiss. "Alright. I wouldn't want to pressure you." He ran away to the pool, laughing, and dove in. He disappeared underneath the surface of the mineral rich water.

Artemis just followed him with his eyes, still savoring the Jarlaxle's taste on his lips. He walked over to the pool a few moments later, and deciding that it was too late to back off now he followed Jarlaxle into the water.

Jarlaxle surfaced, looked at him happily, and swam over to him. "Now tell me: Isn't this just what you needed? Cool water helps to clear your head."

:

Artemis dove in for a moment to get his hair wet. When he surfaced he nodded reluctantly. The water felt nice on his skin, it cooled him down, even if he still couldn't relax completely.

Jarlaxle laughed and hugged him. "You can stay as long as you want."

Artemis wrapped his arms around Jarlaxle. Instead of answering he held him close and kissed him on shoulder and neck, his lips gradually working their way up to Jarlaxle's cheek.

Jarlaxle gasped in surprise.

"Are...are you sure you want this?" He didn't want a repeat of last time. He didn't want to be accused that he made Artemis do it. It hurt when Artemis said that.

Artemis pulled back a bit and gave Jarlaxle an insecure look. "Do you not want it?" he asked back.

A primal shudder raced down Jarlaxle's back. "I do, I do. I don't want what you don't want."

"I've started this ... I wouldn't have done that if I didn't want to," Artemis replied and caressed Jarlaxle's cheek.

"Alright." Jarlaxle suddenly smirked and leaned back. "Commence kissing."

Artemis grinned a little bit, but his grin disappeared quickly enough when his lips met Jarlaxle's, softly and tenderly at first, while his fingers wandered over Jarlaxle's back

_No one ever kissed me like this but you,_ Jarlaxle inadvertently thought. The startled feeling of catching himself like that gave way to sadness.

_What if this were all over in a night because Artemis lost to Drizzt the next morning?_

_Then make it count,_ he answered himself a moment later.

"Artemis, please don't be offended," he said when the kiss broke. "I think...I think I love you."

Artemis just wanted to move on to Jarlaxle's throat, but he froze suddenly. He looked at Jarlaxle with an expression somewhere between confusion, sadness, and disbelief.

"You only think that because you think it will make me feel better," he said softly, not reproachfully. He couldn't believe that Jarlaxle really felt that, but he wasn't angry. His hands resumed their slow movements on Jarlaxle's skin.

"If I thought it would make you feel better, why would I ask you not to be offended?" Jarlaxle asked in disbelief. "I thought you would be angry with me. You don't seem to share the same sentimental ideas as others of your race."

He knew was digging himself in deeper instead of enjoying what they may have tonight, but he couldn't stop himself.

Artemis sighed and put his head on Jarlaxle's shoulder. "I don't. I thought that was obvious ... I just can't believe that you can mean that," he said quietly. "I'm not even sure I know what it means," he added, his voice now so low that Jarlaxle could only hear it because Artemis' lips were so close to his ear.

Jarlaxle said, winding his fingers around Artemis', "It means that I like it when you kiss me." He stopped, afraid that it wouldn't explain anything, Artemis would deny it. "I don't want anyone but you to be with me and to do these things with me. I mean I feel as though I am the only person you've ever kissed this way, held this way. That I'm...special."

As soon as he said that he became afraid that Artemis would tell him he wasn't special, at all. He was just somebody.

Artemis was silent for a while, but at least he didn't push Jarlaxle away. He seemed to be thinking, and his voice trembled a bit when he finally answered, "You are. It's just that word ... 'love' ... Humans use it so often that it loses every deeper meaning." He snorted a bit, and pulled Jarlaxle closer. "I want this to ... mean something."

"It does. It does. It means a lot to me," Jarlaxle protested. "I am willing to give up my sexual independence for you. That is the greatest concession in the drow world."

Artemis winced a little bit. He hated how that sounded ... he had always thought that so many human couples were hypocrites, pretending they were loving each other just because they didn't sleep with others. Artemis thought that love should be more than sexual faithfulness. But he didn't say it, if it was worth so much from a drow's point of view.

Nonetheless he seemed a bit shaken when he nodded simply.

Jarlaxle was hurt by Artemis' expression. "Is there something else?"

"I don't know," Artemis said and looked up again. But he had learnt by now that so many things that seemed obvious to him were completely unknown to Jarlaxle. "I thought there should be more... Many humans are faithful to each other, without caring. But I don't want to ... belittle what you offered me."

He looked away. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know what I'm supposed to say." He felt horribly inadequate, and he thought it was just a matter of time until Jarlaxle would get angry and push him away. He kept his arms wrapped around Jarlaxle, holding on to the feeling he was afraid of losing too quickly.

Jarlaxle, instead of pushing him away, shuddered and wrapped his arms around Artemis more closely. "I felt a lot of things. I feel a lot of things." It hurt to say that, as if he were parting with an embarrassing secret somehow. He realized it was because of what he had to say next. "I simply don't have words for them." Gods, he was so inadequate next to a human. They had words for every feeling, for anything!

"I don't know what it means to not want physical separation from you. I feel that so many times."

"And I have so many words that mean nothing to me," Artemis said and kissed Jarlaxle on the temple. "Why do you need a word for it? I don't ... I just want to have it." If Jarlaxle insisted on calling it love ... it would feel strange for Artemis, but he thought he could get used to it. He didn't say that, however; he didn't want to encourage Jarlaxle, after all.

"Because I can name it if I have a word for it," Jarlaxle protested. "It makes it real. Not just some figment of my imagination. I've been called crazy more times than I can count. Crazy for not hating humans. Crazy for not killing everyone who displeases me. Crazy for speaking kindly to servants and to little children. Crazy for giving people I like second chances. Crazy for having friends! I am tired of being crazy! I want to be accepted. I want to be able to say I have a name for what I am. Without a name, I'm just confused." He bowed his head. "Some crazy mercenary."

Artemis refrained from saying that he thought Jarlaxle had to be crazy for going through so much trouble just for him. Instead he forced himself to saying those words that still scared him. "Then call it love, if it makes you happier," he sighed. "Or call it anything else." He rubbed his cheek against Jarlaxle's.


End file.
